


Seeing You

by aestheticgoat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Divination, F/M, Falling In Love, Fred Weasley Lives, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Seer OC, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestheticgoat/pseuds/aestheticgoat
Summary: Emily Winnicott is a Seer that can take one look at a person and know how they die. She can't interfere, or she risks fate punishing her three times over for her actions. How many times will she let the people she love die, without doing anything to protect them?
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Michael McManus/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written all in one go (mostly) when I was planning my novel and had the idea for the fic distract me. There are probably many typos and inconsistencies (I normally write in the third person). Most of the fic was written much too late at night, so forgive me. I got a bit carried away in some places, and maybe I'll go back and make revisions one day (everything but the very end is finished). For now, enjoy and let me know what you think.

_“Dear Diary,_

_“You were a gift to me from my friend, who suggested writing out my thoughts in order to clear my head. I know it’s a bit silly for a grown woman to be writing down her secrets in a little blue book, but I there’s nobody that I can tell about what I will write here. I have a secret. In fact, I have several. They’re sad, deadly, and I’m not proud of them. But I cannot regret the actions of my youth._

_“In these pages, I will tell you the story of how I came to live the wonderful life that I have now, and how I feel I sometimes do not deserve it.”_

* * *

  
  


It all started in my fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the year that Sirius Black was on the loose. I had finally settled into contentment with my life as a Hufflepuff. The years past had proven that I had the right traits: my exam scores, though not top of the class by any means, proved my dedication to hard work, if anything. I lived quietly, as much as you could do at Hogwarts with not only Harry Potter, but with five Weasley’s and chaos at every corner. I had never thought that my life would be anything significant to them.

I have a secret that I should mention now, before I truly jump into the story: I have a special affinity for Divination. Ever since I was a young girl, I would get flashes of the future in my mind. I knew, by my fifth year, that my parents would separate by my sixth year, and I knew that my younger brother would be sorted into Slytherin. I also knew that something tragic would befall the castle in three years time, and that there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was Harry Potter’s war, as I knew from the first time I saw him. The tragedy that the boy would live through haunted my second year, ever since the first time I saw him. That was how it worked, I should say. I would see flashes of the future the first time I laid eyes on the person.

I never expected to be involved in these events, of course.

I can’t see my own future, and I imagine it has something to do with knowing everyone else’s. This has been a secret from almost everyone I know for decades. The people who know are as follows: Sybill Trewlany, Albus Dumbledore (since deceased), my mother, my brother (since deceased), and only some of my close friends from Hogwarts. Of these people, they only know a handful of my visions. None of them knew how close they were to death.

Anyway, it was a gray, overcast day in September of my fifth year. Every day had been gray lately. I had been in Filch’s office, being served detention in the form of giving Mrs. Norris an overdue bath. Filch inspected my work as I finished and stepped out of the room. Everything was quiet for a second. The cat jumped onto Filch’s desk, and suddenly an awful stench filled the room. Someone had set a dungbomb off, and now the whole room stank. Doing my best to block out the stench by pinching my nose, I ran out of the room and doubled over with coughs.

All of my hard work had been ruined, and Mrs. Norris was smellier than she had been before detention. Great, I thought. Now I’m going to be blamed for this.

There was a commotion in the room I was standing outside of as Filch reentered. “WHO DID THIS TEH’ ME CAT?” he said from inside. “WINNICOTT!”

At the mention of my last name, I bolted down the hallway. I’m not normally someone who runs away from my problems, but this really shouldn’t be my problem. Down the hall, I ran into the famous Weasley twins sitting on the windowsill and snickering. “You!” I said, pointing at them. “You’re the reason I’m about to get another week of detention!”

The two paused and looked at me. There was a flash of something in my head, but I suppressed it in favor of focusing on the task at hand. Fred - or George, I wasn’t really sure at this point - was just about to answer me when the sound of footsteps clattered down the hall.

“All right, whatever!” I hurried. “You can pay me back now, don’t let him see me!”

Fred and George looked at each other and shrugged, jumping off of the window sill. “What would you like us to do, Emily Winnicott?” they said in unison.

Quick as a Ravenclaw, the idea that popped into my head made me giggle, “Loads of random students snog in the hallways, don’t they boys? It creeps Filch out, he’ll ignore me for sure.”

“All right, Freddie,” George turned to his brother.

“Right on, Georgie,” Fred replied, clasping his brother’s shoulders. 

“You’re not serious?” I said, watching them with horror.

The two broke apart and grinned. “Nah, we’re only jokin’ with ya. Come ‘ere.” Suddenly, I was being lifted up and landed on the windowsill, and I gasped as I landed the cool stone roughly. Fred’s hands were grasping my hips tightly, holding me in place. His eyes twinkled with mischief as they met mine.

Deciding not to back down now, I placed my hands on his shoulders, feeling the tight muscle there. Of course, I remembered, he was a beater on the Quidditch team. I felt my face begin to grow warm, only now realizing how intimate this was. I swallowed nervously, hoping my face didn’t look as hot as it felt.

“You two have to be a little more convincing,” George said from somewhere behind Fred. “He’s coming!”

With no time to think, I did the most appropriately convincing thing. I kissed Fred Weasely.

The boy didn’t seem to expect the action, but reacted with vigor. What should have been a simple, staged kiss quickly turned into something more as our mouths opened to deepen the kiss. Fred’s hands had moved to gripping my legs just above the knees, which sent strange sensations through my body. My hands themselves had traveled into his hair, stroking it. An _mmf_ sound came from him as they snogged.

“Weasely!” came the voice of Filch from some other planet. “Have you seen - ah, never mind!” His voice was punctuated by some sound between a choke and a gag.

Though he probably walked away, neither of us pulled apart from another. Instead, Fred made another _mmf_ sound and I felt a squeeze on my legs that sent a jolt up my body. My back hit the window, in fact, as Fred moved closer and bent over me. Our lips parted for only a second to breathe, both of us panting. It was then, staring at Fred’s flushed face and slightly glazed expression that I realized what my vision of his was.

Heart racing, I pulled further away to look at him more clearly. “I-” I tried to speak, but before a sentence would come out Fred pulled me back to him and kissed me again, this time more gingerly.

When he pulled away again, it was because of George. “All right, mate, he’s gone now. We’re going to be late for class again,” he chided, grabbing Fred by the back of his cloak and pulling him off of me.

Fred’s hand came undone from my hair - when had it gotten there, anyway? - though the hand on my thigh dragged away hesitantly.

I jumped down from the window, legs shaky, and watched as the boys stumbled off to their class, back down the hall towards Filch’s office, where I had come from earlier. Fred glanced back at me with a grin for only a second. His face was still flush. I stood there for a moment, taking in all of the events that had just happened. Did I really snog Fred in the middle of the hall? I eyed the students now passing by suspiciously. Did any of them see what happened? What was more concerning to me, at that moment, was two things that I pondered in the next moments.

One, _the way it felt_. While I had certainly kissed boys before Fred, and several since, it was never quite the same as that. Something in the core of my heart had trembled when the two of us connected, and it felt good. It felt really good. Two, I had seen something horrifying when I met Fred’s eyes. It was only a flash, but it was unmistakable. The war, the battle that I knew was coming. It was a room full of the casualties. A crowd of gingers around one, who lay on the floor without movement. Thinking about it made me feel dizzy, and not in the pleasant way I felt minutes ago with Fred pressed against me. This was the sort of dizzy that made me sick.

It still makes me sick to think about, sometimes. That’s why I started writing in this diary in the first place. The image of Fred’s body still haunts me sometimes.

But, back at Hogwarts, I had stood in that hallway with the heavy news weighing on my mind. It was better not to get involved, I reason with myself. That was how it always was. If someone was going to die, someone was going to die, regardless of what I did. At least, that’s how it was explained to me by Trelawney. I would do better to not get involved in the lives of those I know will end soon. I had made a promise not to get involved with Harry Potter’s life to Dumbledore, and made the same promise to myself now about Fred. Though, it pained my heart to imagine one twin without the other.

As I stood there, deep in thought for what felt like several minutes but was really only thirty seconds of rapid thought, Filch came grumbling by. “Students doing obscene things in hallways and makin’ me cat stink - Winnicott!” He had spotted me. “The dungbomb-”

“The Weasley’s,” I responded without thinking, pointing down the hall where the boys had gone. Filch scowled.

“Of course,” he grumbled then added, “You should be punished anyway.” The malice in his voice was certain, but couldn’t reasonably give me a detention. I got away lucky, that time.

* * *

The next time I saw Fred was in the Great Hall the following weekend. It was a Saturday, and I had taken to waking up early on the weekends to enjoy the quietness of the ordinarily loud areas of the castle. Of course, it was a Quidditch weekend.

My fellow Hufflepuffs, today matched against Gryffindor, jabbered excitedly on about the game. They were looking forward to proving themselves against the long-assumed better team, and I was getting into the spirit of things just as several of the Gryffindors arrived at their table. I had made the mistake of sitting to face that side of the Great Hall, and caught myself staring as the twins bounded into the room like a pair of overexcited pups.

“Not the best weather for a game, is it?” said the person sitting to my right, newly appointed Seeker and Captain Cedric Diggory.

I leaned forward to grab some jam and toast. “It’s really quite dreadful, looks like it might storm any second.” Cedric nodded along. “But Gryffindor’s a bit clumsy, aren’t they? You’ve been working the team hard, Cedric, you’ll do great.”

Cedric, quite the popular Hufflepuff, said thanks before being whisked away into a different conversation with Herbert Fleet, the Keeper.

With the distraction of conversation temporarily gone, I caught myself glancing at the Gryffindor table just as Fred looked over. We caught eyes and something surprising happened: he blushed. The confident, outgoing, carefree Weasley blushed. Was it because of me? I felt quite pleased with myself as I watched him fumble with his fork. Oliver Wood was giving the Gryffindors a somewhat sullen pep talk.

When Gryffindor lost to Hufflepuff that day, I was, like the rest of my House, ecstatic for only a few moments. Harry Potter had nearly died falling off of his broom. It didn’t sit right with any of us that we got that victory, but seeing the crushed expression on Fred’s face struck me in the heart. Like it or not, I was a little bit involved with this boy. Knowing his fate, I felt for him.

That evening, under drunken celebration in the dorms, I had the brilliant idea of writing Fred a letter. _Too bad about the match_ , it read. Attached to the note was a dungbomb. I sent it off, to arrive in the morning along with everyone else’s mail. I fell asleep that night and dreamt of stormy weather and Fred.

The next morning I missed breakfast, having slept in too late. When I finally rose, groggy from drinking too much the night before, Cassidy was all but bouncing on her bed next to me. She had been waiting for me to wake up, as it turned out, and told me all about the person who dared prank the Weasley twins this morning at breakfast. “And nobody knows who did it! Well, I suspect the twins have some idea, but it wasn’t signed. Honestly, you should’ve been there,” she excitedly told me.

I had to suppress a smile. I wasn’t trying to prank them - I had very little experience with dungbombs, but apparently she had set it up to go off when the note was delivered.

“You should’ve seen it! Half the Gryffindors ran off covering their noses! Of course, some of us sitting near the scene also ran off… But I just can’t believe it,” Cassidy finished. She was a big fan of following the twins’ antics, and this was an unprecedented event. Normally, the two of them were ready to redirect anything that came their way on the off chance that it did. Cassidy, just like everybody else, had a tiny crush on the twins. They were admittedly quite charismatic.

It was Sunday, so I had loads of work to catch up on. Sitting in the common room attempting to study was no good, however, as my mind kept wandering off to what the twins must have thought about this morning’s events. That, and I was starving. One of the upsides to being a Hufflepuff was being near the kitchens, so I decided that sneaking an early lunch wouldn’t be a bad idea. When I had stepped out of the common room and into the empty hallway, brightly lit from windows near the ceiling, I took a deep breath. The air smelled warm and inviting, as the house elves working for the castle were now preparing lunch. Following my nose, I stopped short of the kitchens when I saw a familiar tall redhead hovering around. The back of Fred’s head was facing her as he looked around the hallway, muttering to himself.

“Looking for something?” I couldn’t help it, I was feeling left out of my own prank from the morning. I suppose I was craving some attention, or credit for the thing from someone. Fred whipped around, a grin and mischievous twinkle lighting up his eyes. I did my best to keep my expression neutral, deciding to play dumb. “I heard you had a fun time this morning, I’m sorry to have missed it...”

My voice trailed off as Fred approached, shaking his head. “You,” he started, but never finished. Instead, he walked up to me and grabbed my waist, pulling me in for an impromptu kiss. It was just as heated as the one before it, yet much more brief. His hands let go of my waist and he pulled back, much more composed than the last time. “Don’t you start getting any ideas now that you’ve gotten us,” he mumbled.

Before I could reply, Fred had already run off down the hall, presumably to his other half. I stood there in stunned silence, my hunger forgotten, and laughed. I made a mental note to myself: _tease Fred more often_. I was already thinking about tomorrow, letting the future slip away from me.

I learned later on that Fred was quite enamored by the prank. He had expected some sort of love note, or a request to meet. He certainly didn’t expect a dungbomb from the girl he had just snogged days ago.

The next morning, I woke up on time - had to, there were classes to go to - and sat down at the Hufflepuff table with Cassidy by my side just as the mail flew in. “Looks like the twins have another package coming today,” she said in excitement.

“Just watch,” I let slip. Oh, well, I was going to tell Cassidy about it eventually.

As my owl, Sandra, gracefully approached the Gryffindor redheads with a small package in her claws, Fred and George shot out of their seats in sync. Both wands lifted, they uttered a spell I was too far away to hear, and a bolt of light shot towards the package and caused it to explode. “Oh no,” Cassidy mourned to my right.

I smiled; it was all going to plan. In the next second, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans began raining down from above them in a downpour. The twins stood and looked around as the candies fell into not only their food, but clattered onto every plate and into every goblet in the Great Hall. The rainbow shower was seemingly never ending.

I couldn’t help but giggle, along with the rest of the studentry. Cassidy was laughing harder than the rest, and managed to gather herself enough to ask in a loud whisper, “Was that you?”

The question elicited more giggles from me and soon the two of us were laughing again. I chanced a glance at the boys again, who both looked somewhat miffed. The two of them simultaneously erupted into applause, looking around the room. “Well done! Well done! To whoever it was, we salute you!”

Both of them bowed, but Fred was looking directly at me when he straightened. He gave a little golf clap, which caused Cassidy to nudge me. 

When the professors had cleared away the beans with simple waves of their wands and shooed everyone to move along to their classes, some students disgruntled at coming in late and not having a chance to eat, Fred and George were held accountable for the “damages”. I think they got off easy, though, which I’m thankful for. Sure, the prank wasn’t their fault, but they had no business trying to shoot a package out of the air in the first place.

We all filed away towards our classes, the conversations in the hall all speculation on who the culprit was. “I think it was a Ravenclaw,” said a first year Ravenclaw student. “Who else would be clever enough to pull one over on the kings of pranking?”

I smiled to myself. While this wasn’t something I had in mind to pass the time, I surely didn’t mind the attention. When I passed by Fred and George in the crowded hall on my way to Transfiguration, the two of them walked past me on either side and said synchronously “Cheeky.” I grinned for the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where I really started getting carried away with myself... Did I mention that Cedric wasn't initially supposed to be a major character?

* * *

The next few days were suspiciously quiet. Though I enjoyed the effects that the pranks had on Fred, I wasn’t interested in taking his crown. Also, when passing by him in the hallway once - he winked at me - I was reminded in a flash of the vision I had of him laying on the floor of what I now recognized as a rubble-filled Great Hall. The sight was enough to make my throat sore and tears prick at my eyes as I passed him.

Right, I had to remind myself, I can’t get involved. It’s wrong to meddle in people’s lives. And deaths. And I didn’t want to get myself hurt by getting myself involved. 

But dammit, the twins were unavoidable. Being in the same year, we had Charms together. I saw them constantly in the hallways, until at one point I was convinced that they were following me on purpose. Even Cassidy, my best friend, couldn’t stop talking to me about them.

“But how did it all start? Why did you prank them?” She questioned me Thursday, when we were the only two in our dormitory in the evening. 

I didn’t see the point in lying to her, or avoiding the question.

“You what?” Cassidy’s eyes were bulging out of her head. She jumped up and started hitting me with her canary-yellow pillow. “I can’t believe you never told me about all of this! What am I, just your - I don’t know - _best friend_?”

I laughed, “Sorry, Cass. I didn’t see a reason to. It was nothing, after all. The boys have their own thing going on, I didn’t want to get in the way of all of that.” That was the truth.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

My friend’s words caught me off guard. I looked at her, puzzled.

“Fred is clearly in love with you!” I tried to interject but she wouldn’t let me, instead continuing, “Sparks _flew_ when you two kissed! Even he felt them! George had to pull him away, for Merlin’s sake!”

“So what do you want me to do about it?” I couldn’t help shouting. Cassidy was getting me riled up. I had been trying to ignore my feelings - my tiny, tiny crush on the boys - and she wouldn’t let me. Ordinarily, I admired Cassidy’s determination to get others to think with their feelings instead of their brains, but this was not a good time. I had a good reason to go back to ignoring Fred Weasley, though I couldn’t tell her.

“Make a move!” The response came after a delay, presumably because I had shouted at her. “You’re already in! They respect you now, you’re one of them. I mean clearly, you can easily keep up with their pranks.”

I had to think about what Cassidy said that night. My brain told me to ignore her, that she was working with good intentions towards the wrong goal. That gave me an idea. Maybe, she should try finding a distraction.

The next morning, I was lucky enough to find a seat next to Cedric Diggory, who was talking about Quidditch Practice. “The Ravenclaws will be tough to beat, but I think if we work hard enough we might stand a chance against them.”

I smiled at him as I sat down. “Hey Emily,” he greeted me. “Excited for the match this weekend?”

“Is that what you all were talking about? Honestly, is there anything else you talk about?” I teased. Cedric and I’s friendship was based solely around one conversation we shared on our train ride first year, revolving around interest in Quidditch. I had never been on a broom before, though he suggested I give trying out a shot anyway. Anyway, there’s always something special about the first face you get to know when traveling to a strange place, and both of us getting sorted into Hufflepuff was lucky.

“Oh, that’s right, didn’t you fall off your broom during try-”

I punched his arm lightly, to which he feigned pain by rubbing it. “Anyway, I was actually hoping you might have a free moment sometime this weekend to hang out with an old friend?” I suggested. Out of nowhere, I could feel the blood pumping in my ears.

“Yeah?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah, why not? You finally ready to learn how to fly?” He was being cheeky, but the sentiment piqued my interest. Private flying lessons sounded like the right setting to get my mind off of Fred.

“I’d like that,” I smiled. “But only if you’re ready to be contested as the Hufflepuff seeker, of course.”

Anthony Rickett and Michael McManus _oo’d_ from the other side of the table. “Watch out Diggory, she’s trying to steal your spotlight!” Anthony said.

Cedric scoffed. “I’d like to see her try.”

I put on a thoughtful expression. “Maybe I’ll go for Captain, too.” The statement was met by loud cheers and laughter from the Hufflepuffs around us. I beamed at Cedric, and he shook his head, but I could see the smile on his face.

I couldn’t help but look over at the Gryffindor table, where I caught Fred’s eye. George wasn’t paying attention, but Fred met my gaze and raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure what his point was until he glanced briefly to Cedric and then back at me. Was Fred Weasly actually jealous? Could Cassidy be right in her guess that he was falling in love with me?

Not wanting to entertain the idea, I shrugged at Fred and looked away to grab a pitcher of orange juice. I nervously drank it in one gulp, wanting to push those thoughts away. “You all right?” asked Cedric, apparently concerned about my obsession with orange juice.

“I’m fine,” I choked out.

* * *

That Saturday couldn’t come soon enough. Cedric and I had chatted about our plans the day before in the Hufflepuff common room. “Yeah, Gryffindor’s been signing up for the Saturday morning slots, so you’ll have to deal with me post-afternoon practice.”

I didn’t mind. If anything, that meant I wouldn’t be seeing Fred until dinner, if I timed breakfast well enough. Waking up later than normal for myself, I came down to the common room with Cassidy just as Cedric and some of the other members of the Quidditch team were exiting. Cedric hung back, “‘Morning.”

Cassidy raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as Cedric held the door open for them. “Morning!” Cassidy greeted cheerily. “Nice day out today, isn’t it?”

Cedric chuckled, “Well, it’s certainly quite sunny.”

He was right, there was bright light beaming through the corridors as they made their way to the Great Hall. I was surprised by the sudden shower of attention from the popular Diggory, but comforted to know that they were still friends. It had been a while since they hung out, since Cedric had grown popular shortly after the start of their first term at school. They spent even less time together second year, once he had joined the Quidditch team.

I found myself growing excited about their afternoon hangout.

We ran into the Gryffindor Quidditch team on their way out as we arrived at the Great Hall. “Morning Winnicott,” the Weasleys greeted, which felt quite charged.

“Oh, you’re popular with the Gryffindors now?” Cedric asked.

“Guess so,” I said, shrugging.

When we sat down to eat, Cedric told me he had to sit with the team. “But I’ll be seeing you later?” When I confirmed he touched my arm gently and then turned to sit with the Quidditch team.

“What is going on with you?” Cassidy asked me as soon as the two of us sat down a few spaces away from the team, which quickly grew loud.

“Cassidy, Fred is great. He really is. But, I can’t…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say. “It just doesn’t make sense for us. He’s got his own world already-”

“And Cedric doesn't?”

“-and Cedric is less complicated.” I finished unsure of what I was even saying. Cassidy must have been able to tell I was lying, because she rolled her eyes and huffed without responding to me. “Come on, Cass. Cedric was my first friend here. He’s a great guy. He’s teaching me how to fly a broom today-”

At that, Cassidy burst out laughing. “You? On a broom? Yeah, right.” It made me feel better to hear Cassidy laugh at me than be annoyed. “Okay, well if you learn how to ride it then maybe it’s meant to be.”

Now I was the one to roll my eyes, but I didn’t argue. Cassidy was proving to be a very romantic person, a recent development.

Eventually, the Hufflepuff team went off to practice and Cassidy and I were left to our own devices. Of course, on our way to their common room we ran into none other than Fred and George. “Afternoon, ladies,” they said in unison. The two of them stared expectantly at Cassidy and me. They were still in their Quidditch uniforms, and still sweaty. I was getting better at telling the difference between them. Fred spoke first.

“Winnicott,” Fred greeted.

“Cabella,” George greeted Cassidy. “Have a nice breakfast?”

Fred stared at me as George made small talk with Cassidy. I wasn’t listening to George and Cassidy’s conversation, but it seemed like it was drawing to an end when Fred interjected, “So, any plans for the day?”

Cassidy and I shared a look before I confidently said, “I do, actually. I’ll be learning how to fly a broom.”

Fred looked puzzled. “You don’t know how to fly?”

I shook my head. There was a beat of silence, and I watched as Fred and George shared a look. Fred suddenly perked up.

“Right, well I think we’d better get on our way. Don’t you, Georgie?”  
“I do, Freddy.”

“Goodbye,” the boys said together before marching off along their way.

I looked at Cassidy. “That… doesn’t seem good.” We went off to our common room again, more wearily this time, where we spent some time studying. The fireplace was lit and crackly, and beams of bright light shone from the windows. I began to grow nervous as the time passed. My intent with Cedric was just to spend some time with an old friend, but now that Fred seems almost jealous, I’m not really sure what to think.

Deciding that it would be better to be on the move before the anticipation made me too nervous to go, I stood up and announced to Cassidy that I would be going. “Have fun on your date,” she said to me, the end of her quill in her mouth and her brow furrowed, focusing on a particularly difficult Arithmancy problem.

When I stepped outside onto the grounds, I was surprised by the chill in the air. I was beginning to regret going outside without a cloak, but the dormitory was too far away to come back and make it on time. Not that it mattered if I was late. In my mind, it wasn’t a date. It wasn’t.

Looking over the grounds, I could see the Quidditch pitch in the distance. Tiny stick figures on brooms whizzed around above it. I approached hesitantly, trying to put together what exactly was stressing me out. It was just Cedric.

When I approached the pitch, a broom came flying at me with a rider perched atop it. “Cedric!” I exclaimed. He was beaming as he stopped to hover a few feet off the ground in front of me.

“Winnicott,” he greeted. “Want a ride?”

Mounting the broom I must’ve shown my inexperience because he moved his arms to allow me to wrap mine around his torso. A few seconds later I was grateful, as he zipped off at what felt like the speed of light. I clutched him tightly, fear taking over my body.

“Hey,” I heard his voice. I could feel the vibrations of his voice through his back as I held myself pressed against it. “Are you alright? Look.”

Taking a steadying breath, trying to summon the courage of a Gryffindor, I opened my eyes and gasped at the sight. We were miles above the Quidditch pitch, and the castle. The students on their brooms looked even smaller from up here, but it was also much quieter. We were too high up to even hear the birds chirping. I loosened my grip and sat back, more comfortably. “It’s been a while,” I murmured.

Cedric chuckled. “I can tell.” He took us on a lazy descent. With a glance back, he chuckled again, “What are you doing wearing that? It’s freezing out here.”

I hadn’t even noticed the cold, but now that he mentioned it I had goosebumps all over. “I didn’t realize.” Looking at Cedric’s Quidditch uniform, long sleeves and sturdy cloak, I felt almost naked.

“I’ll give you mine once we land,” he said. “Oh, but hold on.”

“Wha-” my surprise morphed into a joyous scream as Cedrix dipped the broom nearly vertical downwards. We zipped to the ground quickly, and once our feet touched the ground I almost felt like collapsing, but refused to act so meekly. There were some _woot_ ’s from the stragglers on the team, who were exiting the pitch as they arrived.

“Have fun you two!” Anthony Rickett shouted back at them, to which Cedric waved them off.

Catching sight of her standing next to the broom, discarded on the ground, he said, “Nu-uh. Nope. You are getting right back on that broom and not getting off until you can do a loop with your eyes closed.”

“What?” I squealed. “What if I need to pee?”

Cedric laughed and it sounded like music. “Well, then, you go hover somewhere no one can see you. Or use a spell to expand your bladder.” He lifted the broom and held it in place for me as I climbed on uncertainly. “Oh, can’t forget this.” He unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders and brought it around mine, slowly securing it at my collarbone. It might have been my imagination, but I felt his fingers linger and brush my hair away.

I swallowed a lump in my throat as he stepped back, giving me a thumbs up. My hands were clutching the broomstick so tightly that my knuckles were turning white. “Right,” I said breathily. I looked up at him. “You’re not coming with me?”

“What, I thought you were going for Seeker? I can’t help you take my position, can I?” he teased. His gray eyes sparkled in the light. More seriously, he rested his hand on my back. “Lean forward just a tiny bit - that’s right, don’t be scared. Sudden movements aren’t great for learning. Yeah, see, you’re moving forward slowly.”

With one hand still on my back, he pulled out his wand and summoned a broom laying on the side of the field to himself. He let go of my back to get on, but rode next to me the whole time. For a few hours, we enjoyed each other’s company, cruising along on the brooms in a circle around the field. We finally got to catch up with each other and fill in the gaps from the past two years. I didn’t notice how high we had gone until my foot hit the top of the tallest goal. Cedric laughed at my surprise as I went back to clutching the broom too tightly.

“Don’t laugh at me! You tricked me!”

“I didn’t trick you! You have eyes, don’t you?” he laughed.

“Cedric I’m going to kill you!”

“Gotta catch me first,” he said with a wink, pulling his broom up and zipping towards the sky. Deciding I was up to the challenge, I followed him.

We played Cedric-the-Golden-Snitch until I managed to catch up to him only a few feet off the ground and we went crashing down. “Ha! Got you!” The two of them laid in the grass, and I was splayed ungracefully on top of him.

“Good job - ow,” he winced.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize my elbow was - yeah. Sorry.” I shifted so that my elbow was no longer stabbing him in the chest.

“It’s ok,” he said, laughing. His hands moved to my shoulders, steadying me. I was suddenly very aware of how close our faces were. I hadn’t planned on this, but I also didn’t think I would mind. Just as I was thinking about it, Cedric propped himself up by his elbows. He pushed me off and I rolled off with a dramatic sigh.

I didn’t sit up, instead watching the sky for a moment. The clouds were moving slowly. It really was a nice day, for the first time since the start of term. Suddenly, I did sit up, looking at him. I wavered when I saw that his eyes were focused on me, feeling my face grow warm under his gaze. “I-It’s getting late,” I stuttered. What was happening to me?

“You’re right. Let’s fly back to the castle, just for fun,” he said. He stood up and offered a hand, which I gladly took. His hand was soft. I grabbed the broom laying on the ground and placed it in the air, where it stuck. “Though, you do currently have my broom.”

I turned to face him, smirking. I leaned against the broom, which sat firmly in the air behind me. “We could share?” I suggested.

“That’s fine with me, if you’re up for it.” I was about to retort when he stepped forward. He straightened the cloak around my shoulders, dusting off stray grass. His fingers grazed my collarbone again, this time more slowly than earlier. There was no doubting that he did it on purpose now. His fingers lingered on the clasp, and I watched his face. The light in the pitch was growing darker, beams of golden light from the sunset giving their last effort. His eyes flickered up to meet mine, and I let him lean in slowly.

His lips hovered over mine, hesitating, before gently pressing against them.

I was conscious of his lips against mine as they moved slowly, gently. His lips were soft and the kiss was delicate. My mind raced as he pulled away, I tried to make up my mind on the spot about how I felt.

The kiss was brief, and he pulled away quickly. I watched as he floundered about with his words. “I - ah - I’m sorry. I wasn’t really sure about what we were… I mean, I didn’t think it was a date, but then my friends - sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if you didn’t-” He stopped himself suddenly, scratching his head.

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me, and his eyes snapped up. I stifled my giggle and grabbed the front of his uniform, pulling him into another kiss.

It wasn’t possible to kiss Cedric without comparing him to Fred. Where Fred kissed me with need, passion, Cedric kissed with tenderness. His hands didn’t wander, they simply moved to cup my face gently. His hands were soft, barely calloused from flying. Fred’s hands had been rough against my thighs, the thick calluses built up from the work of a Beater. Whereas Fred’s hands burned where they touched, Cedric’s soothed. Of course I liked Cedric, who wouldn’t? How could I have been nervous about this?

When they finally drew away, Cedric’s face was drawn in a relaxed smile. “You look good in my cloak,” he said. It was dark in the pitch now, and we had to hurry to make it to the castle before they were breaking rules from being out.

“Oh, we missed dinner,” I realized out loud as we touched down. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved,” he responded.

“Oh, Merlin, you’ve been outside all day! I even forgot that you had practice right before! I should have brought you something to eat.” I felt bad for taking up his day.

“Don’t worry about it, we are Hufflepuffs after all.”

We traveled down to the kitchens, where the house elves had stopped cooking for the day. Not strangers to sneaking in, however, we found leftover food piled high. We ate eagerly, sitting on top of the countertops since there were no tables or chairs.

 _I like Cedric_ , I thought. We had a nice time together that left my heart full - and my face flush from the wind. I certainly knew him better than Fred. “So, do this again sometime, yeah?” I tried to keep the tone casual, looking down at my plate as I spoke. I didn’t want him to be my boyfriend, not yet. I wanted something casual and fun, and if things got serious then that’s how they would be.

Cedric leaned forward until I looked up, then gave me a peck on the lips. “Of course,” he said. He didn’t say anything else, but he rested his hand on my knee, smiling.

“You have powdered sugar on your nose,” I giggled. It was right on the tip, in a near perfect circle.

“Oh, do I?” he asked, going cross-eyed. He stuck his tongue out, trying to lick it off and tilting his head with exaggeration. “Can’t seem to get it.”

“Oh, come here, you goof.” He stopped moving long enough for her to grab him by the chin and wipe off the sugar with my thumb. I pulled him in for a kiss, and his lips tasted sweet like the sugar on his nose. Our lips moved in harmony this time, and his hand on my knee sent shivers down my spine. His hand reached around slowly, tentatively, to hold my back as he pressed forward. I leaned back until I was pressed against the cool kitchen counter. My cloak had been discarded as soon as we entered the warm kitchen, and now Cedric was hovering over me, hands on either side to hold himself up. The air seemed to grow hotter.

I felt dizzy as Cedric pressed against me, leaning to one side. His hand moved to just above my knee, holding my leg up against his side. His thumb brushed the top of my thigh and I sighed heavily into the kiss. His lips pulled away from me and I let out an involuntary whimper, silenced again as he returned. He pulled away again, more slowly this time, and pressed kisses against my jawline to my throat, where I felt his tongue against what was now burning hot skin. I gasped with the cool sensation left behind. My fingers found their way into his hair, pulling at it gently. 

The hand at my leg moved upwards, and I bent my knee, pressing it against him now. There was no space in between our bodies. I had never felt this kind of fluttering sensation in my stomach before, and everything Cedric did only made the butterflies stir crazy.

My attention returned to his lips as he sucked at the skin just above my collarbone. I gasped with the sensation as I felt his teeth scrape the skin there. His mouth traveled further down until it reached the first buttoned button of my blouse, teasing the area with his tongue. “Cedric,” I finally gasped, unable to take any more.

He pulled away, looking at me with an intense expression. I was dimly aware of something pressing against my leg, but was focused fully on his face. I pulled him back up to kiss me and he did with care. We kissed slowly, fully captivated by each other. Eventually, we pulled away, flushed and panting. Cedric shifted so that he was now entirely off of me, and he draped the arm that had been stroking my thigh over my waist, pulling me in for a hug. I still had one hand tangled in his hair and moved his head so that I could kiss softly his jaw.

We lay like that for several minutes before sitting up next to each other, allowing our legs to dangle over the edge of the counter. He bumped my shoulder with his, and I bumped him back. The silence was happy as we enjoyed the moment. 

“Remember when we sat together on the train?” He was talking about when we first met. I nodded. “I sat next to you because I thought you were cute.”

My eyes widened, not rising from the floor. “When we were eleven?”

He chuckled, “Yes.” There was a pause. “And every day since then.”

I swallowed and looked up at him. He had my mind tangled more with these words than with what we had been doing minutes ago. “I-”

“You don’t have to say anything, Emily,” he said, using my first name this time. “I just had to get that off my chest.”

I was glad to hear him say it. I appreciated the sentiment, I really did, but I couldn’t say that I returned the feeling. Of course he was gorgeous, I couldn’t argue that and neither could anyone else. Maybe I just assumed I’d never have a chance with someone like him, and settled into friendship right away. Then again, I was only eleven.

“Let’s go back, it’s pretty late,” I said after some time. Again, when I stood up he took a look at me and reached out to straighten my collar, giving my shoulder a gentle rub. When he spotted his cloak, he draped that around me too. To return the favor, I straightened his shirt and combed his hair with my fingers, trying to undo some of the mess of it I had made.

When we stepped outside of the kitchens, finally, no light at all was streaming through the windows. It was pitch black outside - when Cedric checked the time on his watch, it read half past ten. “Not bad, but we certainly took our time.”

Stepping into the common room, we parted ways. Cassidy was dozing off on the couch in front of the fireplace, and Cedric went up to his room. The common room was surprisingly empty, apart from the group playing Wizard’s Chess in the corner. Neither side seemed to be winning. I woke Cassidy up when I sat down.

When Cassidy opened her eyes and saw me, she jumped into a sitting position and immediately began talking in hushed whispers. I went first, telling her all about how the date went - to which her first response was “Ha! I knew it was a date!” - and finishing with the scene in the kitchen.

She sat back and stared at me with awe. “My best friend, Emily Winnicott, conquered two of the most popular boys in our year, in one week! I’m so proud.” I had to remind her to be quiet.

“What do you mean, conquered?”

“Oh, my turn! You see, it wasn’t all boring here, either,” she started, excited. “Soon after you left, Sidney Puckerage came in talking about the Weasley twins being up to their usual antics, this time outside of the kitchens! Apparently, they had been setting up some sort of prank for when you got back from your date to get you and Cedric. Of course, I only knew this because I jumped out of my seat after Sydney told us that the twins were up to something. I ran right up to them, you see, and I said ‘you leave my friend alone, she’s on a date!’ and then they stopped whatever they were doing and actually talked to me. They wanted to know where you were, so I told them you were at the Quidditch pitch with Cedric. Fred seemed a little miffed at that, I might add. Anyways, they did the thing where they look at each other and have a whole conversation without words. Then, Fred said something under his breath and they just walked away from me. I think they might have forgotten I was there, actually.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things finally start to pick up, I hope... Also, the readings for the tea leaves all came from a google search on the meaning of tea leaves... I tried to be accurate and I think you get the idea, more or less.

* * *

Dear Diary,

I seem to have gotten carried away in my last few entries. Truthfully, I was rather enjoying this walk down memory lane. I haven’t thought about Cedric Diggory for many years now. He was a wonderful boy. I suppose the gift of this diary was a good one, if I am getting such good use out of it. I haven’t been dating the entries - what use is it, after all, if they’re written about things that occurred many years ago?

Though I don’t feel fully recovered from the weight of my secrets, of which the worst I have yet to share, these flashes back into my past are therapeutic. I will continue with the promise I made at the start of this book, which was to write until my head was clear or until the story drew to a close. So, we return back to Hogwarts.

I hadn’t mentioned it, but Sybill Trelawney and I spent extra weekly lessons together so as to fine-tune my Sight. During these one-on-one lessons, I would be asked about my visions, coached about controlling them, and try to analyze them. Sybill would also be sure to remind me not to meddle in what I’ve Seen, for it would all be for naught.

It was the Thursday after my date with Cedric that I met with her again. I hadn’t told her about my vision about Fred Weasley from weeks ago, about him stricken dead, laying on the floor of the Great Hall. I hardly ever told Professor Trelawney any specifics about my visions. This particular week, I had run out of lies to tell her.

“So, dear, how has the week treated you, hmm?” she asked me, pouring a cup of tea. This was routine; she would ask me about how I was doing as we sipped our tea, and then she’d say, “Oh, look at that, we’ve finished our tea already. Why don’t we take a quick peek at the tea leaves, just because they’re already there?”

The feigned innocence in her voice was charming at first. After four years of it, however, I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. Instead, I wordlessly traded my teacup with hers, and my stomach dropped. I glanced at Trelawney, who was staring intently in the cup. I hoped desperately that it was again a camel, which I had nearly every week, representing “a burden to be patiently borne”. Every week, this was interpreted as my Sight, which I most certainly considered a burden.

The tea leaves in my cup, which was actually the professor’s, made the shape of an umbrella at first, if held at a particular angle. When I rotated the cup around, the umbrella became a rifle. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the signs to change, but I still saw the same shapes when I looked again. It was time to own up to the most horrible thing a Seer could do.

“You’ve been suppressing your sight!” Trelawney burst out, causing the table to rattle when she slammed the cup back down with fury. “After everything I’ve taught you! My dear, do you not see how special this gift that you possess is!” All of her questions came out more as declarations as she shouted.

I swallowed nervously and she snatched the cup I had been interpreting off of its saucer and gazed into it, putting it back down as she gasped dramatically. “I’m not surprised!” she wailed. “Tell me, how long have you been feeding me lies about your visions? No, don’t tell me. You must open your Third Eye immediately, dear, or else it may become too clouded to see!”

“And what exactly is the problem with that?” I snapped. Professor Trelawney was taken aback, but I continued before she could answer. “This _gift_ of mine has caused me nothing but trouble ever since I’ve gotten it! What use is it to know the circumstances that surround a person’s death if there’s nothing I can do about it? I can’t prevent it, you’ve told me that much. I can’t tell anybody else about it, as most people who are not Seers are unfit to carry that burden of knowledge! _I don’t want to know when my friends are going to die._ ”

At last I stood, rattling the table again, and grabbed my bag. “I’ll see you next week, Professor.” I stormed off to the door, but before I left her voice cut through the silence. I hesitated by the trap door.

“Be warned. To suppress the gift of Sight is to harm your magical core. For us, we are truly blessed to feel the course of magic within our veins. The Third Eye is the gateway to a deeper magical place, and if you begin to block it off, you may be unable to open it again. You will be nothing more than a muggle, then.” Though Trelawney’s voice had started off ominous, it ended with arrogant simplicity because she made her point, and knew that I would be caught by it.

I was itching to talk to Cassidy, but didn’t get the chance until after dinner when some of the Hufflepuffs went off to Quidditch practice and the girl’s dormitory was empty, with everyone else lounging in the common room.

Her response was a long whistle, followed by, “Why does she even make you read tea leaves if that’s not really what you’re about?”

I shrugged, sitting cross-legged on my bed and clutching my pillow for comfort. Cassidy was laying on the bed next to mine, staring up at the ceiling. She turned to me. “What are you gonna do?”

I didn’t know. “I don’t want to know when Cedric dies, Cassidy, I can’t see that right now. It would crush me,” I said finally.

“Woah, woah, slow down there!” she said, sitting up. “Nobody said anything about Cedric dying, Emily! Why would you even think about that? Who knows, maybe you’ll see the two of you on white horses, riding off into the sunset after your wedding!”

I looked at her with puzzlement, “Are you okay?” 

Cassidy waved her off. “I mean,” she began slowly, “have you seen people get - ah - people die before?”

I didn’t want to tell her anything specific, but I nodded. Cassidy had an understanding of me without words sometimes, and didn’t press the subject. I was feeling solemn, thinking about Cedric out on his broom practicing. What if he fell off one day, and didn’t get back up? Did I want to know when that would happen? Would it be better or worse to know, not being able to do anything about it?

I fell onto my back and stared at the top of my four poster bed, trying to clear my head. The two of us lay on our beds until we heard the Quidditch team return from practice, a little bit later than usual. I got up to rush down to Cedric, Cassidy trailing behind me.

I spotted him laughing in conversation, and his eyes twinkled when they met mine. Without second thought, I ran up to him and all but jumped into his arms for a hug, squeezing him to make sure he was solid and real. He chuckled into my hair, and I felt his arm rubbing my back after he gave me a squeeze. “Everything alright, love?”

Only then did I realize that we had never truly set the terms of our relationship. While we had clearly been spending more time together, sitting together at meals, chatting in the common room, we hadn’t made ourselves obvious as a couple. “I was only gone a few hours.” I could hear the amusement in his voice.

Suppressing embarrassment, I mumbled, “You need a shower.” I pulled back to look at him, fingers twisting in the hair at the base of his head, still sweaty from practice. Deciding to commit to the show, I pressed my lips to his and was met with enthusiasm. The girls in the room giggled, and the team made a few inappropriate - albeit, funny - teasing remarks. 

Cedric pulled away and smiled bashfully, looking around at the people staring. He leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

That was the first night I spent in Cedric’s bed.

* * *

The week finished off with a trip to Hogsmeade, where Cedric and I had our first official date. We still managed to keep ourselves somewhat low-key, or maybe I wasn’t hearing gossip about Pretty Boy Diggory, as Fred and George had dubbed him, since I was near him most of the time. 

In any case, we perused the shops at Hogsmeade happily. It was getting colder, but I had thankfully remembered my cloak this time. It was a pleasant time, though one moment stuck out to me.

When we were in Zonko’s Cedric was showing me some sort of box that was supposed to activate into something when tapped with a wand. There was no spell involved, but when he stuck the box out to me and I tapped it with my wand, nothing happened. A jolt of fear passed through me and Trelawney’s words echoed in my ears. I dismissed the thoughts, though, as I gave the box a second tap and it unfurled into a beautiful flower bouquet. A giggle escaped me and we chalked the delay up to a wonky product.

We finished off the day at the Three Broomsticks, over a pint of butterbeer. We sat in a booth in the middle of the wall, the light streaming in through the windows behind Cedric. There was a lull in our conversation as we finished our butterbeers, savoring the warmth that came with them. Cedric was looking at me carefully, glancing down at his twiddling thumbs every once in a while.

“I - hm,” he started, seemingly unsure. He chuckled again, then looked up. I was started by the softness of his expression. “So, we never really… Oh, Emily Winnicott, would you do me the pleasure of being my girlfriend?”

The breath I hadn’t realized I was holding left me with a giggle. “Oh, of course, you idiot!”

Cedric must’ve been holding his breath too, because it escaped him in a laugh. “Great, that’s great,” he said. “Wonderful.”

I had by now comfortably forgotten about my complications with Fred, and was living life happily. I had a great boyfriend who was warm, and loving, did everything right. It was a week before the end of term, and I only had one lesson left with Trelawney before being able to go home and forget about her entirely.

Although, life is rarely happy for long. Especially prior to the war…

Starting with that trick box in Hogsmeade, I grew to struggle with casting even the simplest of spells. Not wanting to worry Cedric, I avoided casting spells while he was around. Charms class was difficult, but he didn’t question my choice to partner up with Cassidy. She, on the other hand, had no patience for my idiocy.

“Stopping repressing your Sight,” she whispered angrily to me as she watched me fail to grow little legs on my teacup. “You haven’t been able to cast a spell in days!”

I huffed at her and dropped my wand, watching as she cast the charm effortlessly. The teacup stood warily, then started to stretch out and admire its new legs. When it started dancing merrily, Professor Flitwick came by and dismissed us from class, having successfully completed the task. “Have a nice holiday, girls,” he said before walking off.

Cedric caught up with me and Cassidy as we were arguing outside. “I don’t want to-”

“Don’t want to do what?” he asked, catching us by surprise. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, “We have a break before our next class, what do you want to do?”

“I actually have, uh, a meeting,” I said awkwardly.

“A meeting?” he looked between me and Cassidy. “With who?”

I sighed, not wanting to give too much away. I had come up with an awful excuse that had somehow worked any time this sort of thing came up. “With Professor Trelawney… I haven’t been doing very well in Divination this term and was hoping to get some tips before the holidays.”

“But that’s ridiculous - you’re incredible at Divination!” Cedric said. “She’s always so pleased with your tea.”

“Yeah, well Palmistry is coming up and I’m quite worried about it,” I said.

He didn’t press it, instead dropping his arm from my shoulders to squeeze my hand. “Alright, well I’ll be waiting for you at dinner then.”

“ _Swoon_ ,” Cassidy said as he walked off.

“Oh shut - did you just say ‘swoon’ out loud?” 

* * *

I sat in the dimly lit Divination classroom with Trelawney staring at me, sipping her tea silently. I had finished my own cup, and placed it on the table. “Professor,” I pleaded as she dipped the teapot to her cup. “We can’t just drink tea all day. Please.”

“Hm.” Her voice was tight.

Sighing, I admitted defeat. “Fine, then. Please help me unblock my Third Eye. You were right, I can’t even cast a charm on a teacup! I could do it myself, of course, but I…” my voice trailed off.

“You what?” she questioned innocently.

“I’m scared,” I said quietly. Professor Trelawney didn’t immediately respond, but I continued. “Sometimes, Professor… Sometimes I see death. So many people are going to die.”

Trelawney started to nod, slowly. “It can be worrisome, but death is part of life. All lives come to a natural end. Part of our… _burden_ , as you call it, requires us to come to terms with it.” She paused. “I’m proud of you for being ready to face it.”

I needed Professor Trelawney’s help to unblock the Third Eye because of the outpouring of visions that I would need to endure once the floodgates are open. There was a spell that would allow her to access my mind, not traditionally taught at Hogwarts, that she would be able to perform at the moment I realize the visions. We had to get special permission from Dumbledore, and Professor Snape was assigned to sit in with us during the session. Something about his abilities as a Legilimens made Dumbledore feel more comfortable with him present with us. Nothing anyone could say would make me more comfortable with his presence, but I couldn’t argue with the Headmaster.

Trelawney and I sat in two seats directly across from each other, no table in between us this time. Maintaining eye contact was supposed to make the spell easier. I sat and stared idly at my fingertips in my lap as Snape droned on about the dangers, including the notion that if something were to happen, which was highly unlikely, that there would be no way for him to help. That was comforting. I stared at Trelawney, who said, “Don’t worry Severus, I know everything will go just swimmingly here. It’s not my first rodeo, after all.”

Without breaking eye contact, Trelawney lifted her wand and gave it a small, almost imperceptible wave, and whispered, “ _Legilimens_.”

Immediately I could feel her presence in my mind. It was like the feeling you get when you think you’re being watched, like I would find someone leering over me, breathing down my neck, if only I turned my head. But there was nowhere I could turn inside my mind. It also felt like my sinuses were stuffed. “I’m going to open the block now.”

As soon as the words left her lips, I felt a searing pain in my head. It was brief, but it felt like the worst migraine I ever had, putting spots in my vision. As soon as it arrived, the pain left and was replaced with flashes of what felt like memories. They weren’t memories - they were snippets of the future. Some of them were happy; a butterfly, clouds, a starlit sky, a baby crying. They started to have faces, movement. I could feel the bad ones coming soon enough. Harry Potter’s death. _Not Cedric_ , I thought to myself. Professor Lupin’s death. _Not Cedric_ , I insisted. Headmaster Dumbledore’s death. Fred Weasley’s death. I was beginning to feel nauseous. _Not Cedric_. Professor Snape’s death. _You-Know-Who_ ’s death. Cedric Diggory’s death.

All at once it ended, and as soon as the last flash played in my mind I could feel Professor Trelawney’s presence leave my mind. I came to the present day, with my forehead pressed against something. It was Trelawney’s knees; I had apparently doubled over in pain. My forehead was coated in sweat. My face was wet, but I think it was with tears.

“Severus, leave us.”

There was the brief shutting of a door, followed by silence. It was unbecoming to do what I was doing, but I couldn’t help the sobs. My forehead was still pressed against her knees, and it took a few minutes for me to calm down. Once I had, I sat up in my seat, avoiding Trelawney’s gaze. “Emily,” she addressed me.

When she didn’t continue, I looked up. Her face was streaked with tears, but she kept her composure more readily that I had ever seen. She almost looked professional. I swallowed a lump.

“Cedric,” she started.

“I know,” I said. The image of his body flashed in my mind, and a mixture of nausea and sadness passed through me. I whispered, “It’s so soon.”

“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “Madame Pomfrey has some niche resources, if you’re interested in exploring them.”

I shook my head, “No thank you, Professor. I just need some rest.” Truthfully, though my mind was the only thing that was under attack, my entire body felt fatigued and sweaty.

“I’m afraid that I am required to ask you to go see Madame Pomfrey - you don’t have to use those resources, but she was aware of what we did today and has prepared a space for you in the hospital wing.”

Not feeling up to arguing, I just nodded numbly. 

“I suggest you go immediately,” Trelawney said tightly.

I stood up, knees feeling weak, and grabbed my bag. Just as I was about to exit, I turned back to her. “Thank you.”

She nodded, still sitting stiffly in her chair. 

As soon as I stepped into the stairwell of the tower, the flash of what I had seen moments ago kept replaying in my head. Some surprised me, but none more than Cedric. It was too soon. If I was right, it would only be a little over a year from now. Second term, next year. My heart pounded in my throat. I thought about our outing the other day, and the flying lesson. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, tears were streaming silently down my face. I thought about the first time I ever saw Cedric. The visions were coming less frequently, back then.

It was sunny, September 1st. I was sitting in the traincar alone, one of the first to board. My parents liked to arrive early anywhere they went. I sat with my head pressed against the window, watching streams of students arrive onto the platform. A herd of red-haired kids and two parents arrived, later I would get to know them as the Weasley’s. Behind me, there was a knock on the compartment door frame. “Anyone sitting here?” asked a boy who looked like he was also a first year. He had a handsome face, and it was slightly flush from carrying his luggage.

“I’m Emily Winnicott,” I greeted.

“Cedric Diggory,” was his response. He sat down facing her, nodding awkwardly. They both laughed at the silence, breaking the tension.

“So, do you know what house you’ll be sorted into?” I asked him.

He looked shy. “Honestly, I’m not sure. My father was a Hufflepuff. I’m just hoping not Slytherin, you know?”

I nodded. “Though, no offense, I wouldn’t be exactly chuffed at Hufflepuff either. My dad always said they were the - ah - dumbest house.” I realized how rude my remark was after I said it. “That came out bad.”

Cedric, rather than get upset, actually laughed. “No, I thought that too. But my dad is a smart man. He always told me that the dumbest person he knew was a Ravenclaw, the meekest a Gryffindor. Our houses don’t really determine our potential.”

“Wow, that was deep,” I said unironically. I was eleven.

“Besides,” he added, “the common room is right by the kitchens.”

What ensued after that was excited chatter about the coming year, and of course Quidditch. The memories of this brought a pang to my heart, and I realized that I was lost in thought I had started crying again.

I was wiping my tears and moving away from the doorway to the tower into the hallway when I ran into the two redheads that always arrived at inopportune times. “Winnicott? Everything alright?” one of them asked. I tried to avoid their eyes, but I couldn’t hide the tears. I couldn’t stop them either, once I had started again.

“Is it Pretty Boy Diggory?” one of them said. I think it was Fred. I didn’t nod, but I didn’t shake my head either. “That bloody git, forget about him, alright?”

There was a hand on each of my shoulders, presumably from a different twin each. “It’s gonna be alright,” George murmured from my right.

“Just forget about him,” Fred added, rubbing my shoulder.

His voice sparked the vision again, of Fred lying still on the floor. I couldn’t help the sob that escaped me, and I curled into him, clutching at his robes. One of his hands fell on my head, rubbing comfortingly.

I felt bad about breaking down in front of the two of them, but they were the first non-faculty people I had seen. Professor Trelawney had obviously tried to stay distant and I would be more uncomfortable by Professor Snape trying to be helpful than him leaving. They offered to take me to my common room, but I declined, telling them I was due to go to the Hospital Wing.

“The what?” Fred’s eyes were almost bugging out of his head as he glanced over me. His jaw looked tense. “What did Diggory _do_ to you?”

My eyes widened. I hadn’t meant for them to think that. “No, no. You’ve got it wrong - this isn’t Cedric’s fault. I swear.”

“Then what happened?”

“I…” my voice faltered. “It’s complicated. I’m really not supposed to be talking about it.” I saw their faces look doubtful. “I mean it. I just got in over my head. Look - you saw me come out of the tower! I was in a meeting with Professor Trelawney.”

“Blimey,” the two of them visibly relaxed. “You should’ve said that from the start! She’s a loony! Doesn’t know what she’s talking about, that one.”

I tried to argue with them, but they hurried me along to the Hospital Wing, apparently not thinking about what Trelawney would have done to warrant me a trip to Madame Pomfrey. “Oh, could you two do me a favor, actually?”

A few hours later, after missing the class that I was supposed to attend, Cedric’s face appeared at the foot of my bed. Just rousing from a nap, I sat up to greet him. He had two plates full of food. “Hello, love.”

I smiled at him. “Dinner?” The plates were heaped with turkey and mashed potatoes. 

“Of course,” he said “I couldn’t miss my first official dinner with my girlfriend.” He placed emphasis on the last word, and I might’ve imagined it but I thought I saw a pink tint to his cheeks.

As he sat down on the end of my bed and placed the plates on the side table, my stomach did a nervous flip. I couldn’t help thinking about his death. It was so soon.

“So,” he began awkwardly. It was quiet. We sat for a moment in silence, before both erupting into laughter. “What happened to you today?” he asked after we managed to quiet down again. “The twins hounded me after class - the one you missed, I might add.”

I looked down at my hands, and he took one of them. I looked back up, and lied. “I had my meeting, but I felt a little ill. You know how Trelawney gets, she thought I was dying and told me to spend a few hours with Madame Pomfrey.”

“If I’m being honest, you don’t look so great.” I was ready to argue when I realized he wasn’t being serious. He lifted a hand to touch my forehead, “You’re feeling a bit warm, actually.”

A blush was creeping up my cheeks, and Cedric leaned in to press a kiss to my lips before we were interrupted. “Leave my patient alone!” chided Madame Pomfrey, appearing out of nowhere.

“Ah,” Cedric fell back, giving me enough space that Madame Pomfrey didn’t complain. She gave us both stern looks, then her eyes snapped to the food.

“That’s a great idea, make sure she eats that, young man,” she ordered Cedric. With another look, she turned on her heel and marched off to attend to a first year Ravenclaw who had walked in with a stomach ache.

The next moment, Cedric had a fork with a piece of turkey held up to my face. “Oh, you’re feeding me now?”

“Gotta take care of my sick girlfriend.” He seemed so proud to call me that. It warmed my heart, and the feeling was followed by a pang.

Cedric stayed with me for the rest of the evening, until Madame Pomfrey finally allowed me to leave. Hand in hand, we walked back to the Hufflepuff basement in silence. I was suddenly aware of every painful, beautiful moment we spent together. I wanted to savor it just as much as I wanted it to end, to exist as if it had never happened. 

We passed the kitchens, but Cedric paused. There was soft music coming from inside. Deciding we were interested, we took a peek inside to see the house elves doing the wash, magically of course. The dishes were scrubbing themselves to the beat of the music. One of the elves saw us and shooed us away, and we stepped back into the hall.

“Didn’t know the house elves were fans of Coldplay,” Cedric commented, making me giggle. He stepped back, still holding my hand, and spun me around.

I blushed as I returned to his side, giving it a little bump. “Diggory, you know I don’t dance.”

“No,” he corrected her, “I know you _can’t_ dance. A matter of will or won't has nothing to do with it.”

I shook my head as he tried to spin me again, instead breaking into a run down the corridor. I came to the entrance to the dorms and waited for Cedric to catch up. “Point taken,” he said, coming to a stop.

We entered the common room together, greeted by a few other fifth years lounging around the fireplace. Cassidy was trying to coax her cat, creatively named Spooky, down from the tall windowsill to the right of the fireplace. Spooky was swatting at a delicate Alihotsy sapling. “Get down from there, you stupid black cat,” she muttered, standing on her toes to try to reach him.

“Looks like Spooky’s finally trying to get some excitement into his life,” I commented as I approached

“Very funny,” Cassidy said, rolling her eyes. She gave up, dropping onto her heels. “You!” she shouted, attracting the attention of the others in the common room, including Cedric briefly. “I can’t believe you skipped class!”

I hushed her. I was about to ask her to come up to the room to talk about what happened, but realized that I couldn't tell her about Cedric’s impending death. I settled to tell her about the eye unblocking, and the side effects, without mentioning any details about what I saw but including the part about the twins comforting her.

“Sounds intense,” Cassidy responded. She seemed distant, unlike herself. I realized that I’d been complaining about my own problems a lot recently; I had no idea what was going on with her.

“How - how are you doing?” I felt a little bit uncomfortable asking. I shouldn't have had to, since we’d normally just share everything. “Sorry, I’ve been talking about myself a lot lately. You seem off, are you okay?”

Cassidy knit her eyebrows, “Oh, don’t apologize! Your problems are totally valid, and I love to hear about them - that sounded weird. I mean, I love being the person to listen to you, and guide you in the morally correct direction.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far-”

“Fine,” she said, giving up the joke unusually early. She sighed, glancing around the room. “Actually, there is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Great!” I felt my spirit lift at the chance to not think about myself, for once. “I wanna hear all about it!”

Cassidy looked nervous, and I was just about to ask what she could feel nervous about telling her best friend when she finally spoke in a whisper. “I’ve been seeing someone,” she said.

“What?” I squealed like a little girl.

“Shut up - We’re keeping it quiet, for now. It’s sort of… complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

She looked around again, then met my eyes. I was startled to see she looked guilty. “I - well, actually,” she stuttered. She took a steadying breath, and began again. “She’s a Ravenclaw.”

“Oh, Ravenclaws aren’t all that bad!” I said, failing to see her point. It dawned on me a moment later, when she gave me an _‘Are you kidding me right now?’_ type of look. “Ohhh. Oh. Oh! Oh my god! _She!_ ” The last word came out as an excited squeal, which turned into a giggle as Cassidy tried to hush me. “Sorry, sorry. Don’t mean to be loud. Well, what’s her name then?”

The rest of the night passed by as I badgered her about her girlfriend, trying to take my mind off of the day’s events.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Though I was meant to act as the luckiest girl alive for the next week, as Cedric and I grew more public, my nerves only worsened. The stress of keeping my secret, the knowledge of how close the death of my boyfriend really was, wiggled its way into every crevice in my mind. Every happy moment was undercut by the flashing image of his death, eyes glazed over, expressionless. I was pretty sure I was beginning to see grey hairs, as well. At fifteen, this was not what I had in mind.

To make it worse, the week leading up to the holidays was full of romance. Not only was the castle dressed to the nines with lavish Christmas decor, but everyone’s spirits were running incredibly high. It even affected Cedric, who finally convinced me to dance with him one night in the common room, when we had been sipping butterbeer and were left alone. Everyone else had gone to bed, but left the radio on. The crackling fire only added to the mood. We slow-danced to a few songs, him holding me in his arms.

His eyes were shiny when I lifted my head off his chest to look at him. He looked back at me evenly, expression soft. We hadn’t spoken since we started dancing, and the quiet was soothing. A song by the Weird Sisters played in the background.

I felt something coming on as he looked into my eyes, the kind of something that told me to again think about the end of our coming sixth year.

His expression grew serious, and he spoke softly. “I love you.”

My heart skipped a beat, then hurt for another. I swallowed nervously. “I love you.” I meant it.

The Saturday before term ended, I finally got the chance to meet Cassidy’s partner, May, in the Three Broomsticks on a double date. We all shared a compartment on our way home the next day, too. We were laughing on almost the whole ride, sharing a good mood amongst ourselves. Cedric sat next to me, stealing kisses whenever he got the chance. I let myself pretend that all was well, and bit him a goodbye ending with “I love you” when we parted.

I didn’t see his parents on the platform, and found my own shortly after leaving Cedric, the melancholy slowly creeping back into my heart.

* * *

That holiday was both too short and too long. The moment my eyes landed on my parents, I knew that they would be splitting up. I had known, without my Sight, that it would be coming soon. She missed America. He didn’t care to even visit.

The one upside to this month was my brother, who was going to be attending Hogwarts in the coming fall. He pestered me with questions the whole day, until he eventually went to bed and it was just my mom and me remaining in the kitchen.

“Mom,” my voice came out small. She turned to me, concern written on her face. “I know when my boyfriend is going to die.”

I’m not sure what made me tell her, but it turned out to be the right thing to do. After I finished crying, having burst into tears the moment I confessed, she gave me sound advice. It almost sounded like she had been conferring with the school on my status as a Seer, but what she said was so valuable to me that I couldn’t feel upset.

“You are a smart, beautiful, incredible girl. I know you probably think that your boyfriend - Cedric, is that right - is your soulmate. The thing is, dear, is that soulmates don’t exist. Goodness knows, I thought your father was mine. But no, life is not so neat as to hand us all soulmates, tied up in a bow. Life is messy and complicated, and you have to take care of your heart so that it doesn’t get twisted up in the hardship. You love him?” I nodded. “Then he knows that. You already have something great to look back on. One day, you’ll remember all of the good things with joy, and all of the sad things with melancholy, but you’ll be able to separate them. Your Gift isn’t what’s going to cause Cedric’s death, it’s just preparing you for it. Do what you think is best for you, for your heart, so that it doesn’t break twice for the same boy.”

I had nodded along to her advice. It gave me two options: be the tearful girlfriend at his funeral, mourning his death and celebrating his life, which I couldn't protect, and his memory. Or, option two, break it off before it hurts too bad. Right now, I didn’t want to lose him at all. I wanted every moment I could get. I thought about our slow dance in front of the fireplace. 

“Your father and I are getting a divorce,” my mother said suddenly, voice strained. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“I know.”

The rest of the holiday was punctuated by letters coming from Cedric and Cassidy, both of whom turned up on separate occasions as a surprise. Cedric met my parents only briefly; we spent most of the weekend outside of the house. Cassidy and I spent our weekend together like little kids having a sleepover, with giggles and staying up too late. I allowed myself to forget all of the tragedy that I was privy to, encouraged by my mother who spoon-fed me activities and time-wasters. Cedric had sent me a touching present on Christmas Day: a necklace with a delicate golden chain and pendant that had what looked like a piece of gravel dipped in gold. ‘From the spot where I first knew I was going to fall in love with you,’ it read, with a poor drawing of the two of us on broomsticks. I teared up reading it. Cassidy sent me a large package of snacks and sweets, with a note attached telling me how much it cost to send.

The end of the holiday came quickly, and I realized I had barely seen my father for the most of it. This didn’t worry me; he was really my step-father, and our closest connection was my half-brother who was more than enough of a character to make up for his absence. 

When I arrived at the platform, I was surprised to see Cedric waiting for me. He had come early just to be there with me, remembering that my parents liked to be early. 

We hastily left our families and boarded the train, taking a compartment for ourselves. It was only seconds before our lips were pressed against each other, skin touching skin for the first time in almost a month. 

“Oh, get a room you two,” came Cassidy’s voice.

“I’m pretty sure you just walked into it,” I said, pulling away from Cedric. I jumped up to hug her and her girlfriend in greeting, Cedric following suit.

The rest of the train ride went smoothly, with the four of us catching up with stories about break. Cassidy had apparently also visited May, and spent nearly a week there being treated like a proper princess by May’s parents. Cedric’s arm was wrapped around me casually, his hand playing with my hair. His touch was comfortable and familiar, and I properly forgot about my worries for a few moments on the train ride. 

When we arrived back at the castle, classes were back in full swing. Rumors about Sirius Black on the loose continued to circulate.

It wasn’t long before I began to grow uncomfortable with Cedric. It wasn’t that I had stopped loving him - I’m not actually sure that I could - it was that I felt every moment I spent with him was a lie. Like I was promising to be with him forever, knowing that it meant different things to both of us. I didn’t tell Cassidy when I decided to break up with him.

It was April 20th, a week and a half after his birthday, which we had drunkenly celebrated with a party in the common room. Gryffindor had won Quidditch that day. I was in his bed with him, we were making out. I loved him still, but by then every touch had made me feel ill. I pulled away as his hands skimmed my waist.

“Cedric,” I began.

I have this theory that you can always tell when you’re about to be broken up with. It has to be some combination of all of the little signs that suddenly spring up - the shorter kisses, lackluster touches, less sex, fewer dates, dying romace - and the slight shift in tone that is dreaded and instantly recognizable. Cedric sat up, brow furrowed. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to.

“I..” my voice faltered. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I just don’t think this is gonna work out. Us, I mean. I - I want to break up.”

Cedric moved a hand to my arm. He looked lost, opening his mouth then immediately closing it again. Eventually, he said, “This feels so sudden. I… don’t know what to think.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, voice cracking. He moved to comfort me, but I shied away even though I desperately wanted to be in his arms. “I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“Is something going on? Where did this come from?” he asked. “I thought we were doing great - you just told me you loved me yesterday, and today, this?”

He was right to doubt me. I didn’t want to break up with him, and it showed. I still loved him. Still, I shook my head, tears now starting to form. I pushed away his hand again as it moved towards me.

“I -” Now Cedric's voice cracked, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I jumped off of his bed and ran out of the room, into the common room, and out into the hallway.

It was late, and it was against the curfew to be out, so it was empty in the hall. I stood outside and leaned my head against the wall. The tears fell freely, not for the first time. I managed to gather myself after a few minutes of this and stood up straight, gathering my thoughts. I wasn’t ready to return to my room, or into the Hufflepuff common room at all for that matter. The Gryffindors would surely be celebrating the day’s victory, but the only one I knew was another person I’d rather not get attached to…

Still, I went. I knew the general way to the common room, and it was easy enough to follow the sounds of raucous laughter that carried down the corridor.

To my luck, someone was stumbling out of the portrait hole just as I arrived, but I paused in my tracks as I recognized the student. “Fred?”

He turned around, disoriented. “Ah, Winnicott! The tease,” he greeted cheerfully. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Where’s George?” I asked. 

Fred waved me off. “We’re playing a game of ‘ _How many times can people see George and think it’s Fred?’_ The name is a work in progress.”

He seemed sober. If anything, a bit goofy. “Wait,” I realized. “Did you just call me a tease?”

I might have imagined the pink tinge that came over his face, or maybe it was already there from the cheer and - likely - firewhiskey. “You  _ are _ a tease, Winnicott. That little stunt you pulled with Filch last term? Oh, and the pranks. Merlin, that was wonderful. And then you hang me out to dry - I mean, Pretty Boy Diggory?”

Fred mentioning Cedric made my heart pang, but I pushed away. “So, you’re saying you were jealous?” I teased. I stepped forward until we were only a foot apart. Fred looked me up and down. I needed a distraction tonight, and I decided to ignore the irony in coming to Fred to get it. My hand found its way to his neck, where I paused before gently tugging him towards me. Our lips pressed together warmly, and now I could take the firewhiskey on his breath.

Unlike the first two times we kissed, I had caught Fred off guard. The kiss started out more gentle than before, but morphed into passion quickly. His hands had found their way around my waist, and I was aware of the wall suddenly hitting my back as Fred pushed on. 

“Ow! Watch where you’re going, you hooligans!” cried the painting I had accidentally run into. Immediately, Fred jumped back. He then reached his arm back around me and pulled me in, this time to whisper in my ear.

“Go back to my room?

“Yeah,” I breathed.

We snuck through the portrait hole, Fred covering my ears because, “I can’t go giving out the password to any ol’ person who asks for it,” and into the common area.

The Gryffindor common room was, predictably, red and gold. It was quite cozy, though no match for my own House, and full to the brim of every student in Gryffindor, and then some. The two of us snuck through the crowd and climbed a set of stairs up to the fifth year boy’s dormitory, where we finally found some privacy.

When I lay on the bed, robes partially discarded, Fred paused. “Aren’t you still with-”

I shook my head. Before Fred could say anything else, I added, “Let’s not talk about it.”

Fred’s touch was like fire on my skin. It breathed life into my body, made me feel perfect sensations in every touch. He was more eager to leave bite marks than I was accustomed to, but I didn’t care. It was fiery, and I felt alive.

Afterwards, I accidentally fell asleep. I woke up a few hours later as McGonagall made everyone downstairs return to their rooms, realizing that Fred was still in bed with me. He wasn’t asleep, just reading a book. “It’s bad form to leave a lady in your bed all alone,” he scoffed when I asked him why he didn’t go back to the party.

“I’m sorry about falling asleep,” I said, embarrassed. I sat up, trying to keep myself covered. “I didn’t mean to, but I should really get going.”

“You don’t want to just spend the night? It’s already one in the morning,” he said. I shook my head and started gathering my clothes. “I really wouldn’t mind it.”

“No, I should go,” I said, not offering up any additional excuse. He didn’t push it, which I appreciated, but took a peek out from the curtains of his four-poster to see if anyone else was in the room. I waited until everyone was either in bed or washing up, and Fred let me know I was safe to exit.

Returning to my dorm after having my first one night stand was an interesting experience. It was eerily silent in the halls, and I broke into a run halfway to the common room.

That night, I slept fitfully. My mind kept wandering to Fred, and then I would awake in a cold sweat as I saw his body drop to the floor, dead. Sometimes it was silent, sometimes I could hear the screams in the background. Sometimes it was just a flash of his face, frozen, that woke me up with a jolt.

When I heard about the alleged break-in the following morning, I couldn’t help but gape at the news. Cassidy chattered on about what she suspected happened over breakfast, but I couldn’t shake the fact that I had been there when it happened. She stopped talking, however, when Cedric appeared in the Great Hall. He cast an awkward glance over at me, then sat among the throngs of the Quidditch team.

Cassidy turned to me with eyebrows raised to the ceiling, “What happened?”

I told her about breaking up with Cedric, omitting the events from afterwards.

“I can’t believe you would do something like that without telling me about it first! What was wrong? I thought you two were perfect together.” Her reaction made me wince, and she was displeased with my response telling her I didn’t want to talk about it, but added anyway, “Well, I’m sorry. Whatever happened, I’m here for you.”

I love Cassidy.

When the owls arrived for the morning, I was surprised to see a letter for me. It read “Sorry about the breakup, but last night was fun” signed with a winky face that actually winked at me. There was a lollipop in the shape of a rooster attached to it. I didn’t show Cassidy the letter, telling her it was candy from my mom. I looked over at the Gryffindor table, where Fred Weasley and I caught eyes. I shook my head in laughter then winked at him. He gave me a thumbs up. What a dork. I assumed he was interested in meeting up again, but we didn’t. I was too nervous about Sirius Black to go sneaking about in the corridors, and I didn’t want to catch feelings anyway.

The rest of term, the few weeks that were left of it, anyway, went by uneventfully. Everyone was tense, studying for O.W.L.’s and N.E.W.T.’s, too busy to keep up with drama or even the news about Sirius Black. Cassidy and her girlfriend were happy as clams, making plans to spend portions of their summer break together. I was making plans with myself on what I could do to keep my brother entertained during the divorce.

When we went home on the train at the end of term, the three of us decidedly cheerful about our exam results, I was nervously awaiting my arrival home. My mother had been writing to me, telling me about the divorce proceedings. She was planning on moving to America, but my brother would stay with our dad. I had my choice of where to go, and I still hadn’t made it.

My brother and mother were at the station to pick me up, of course jabbering endlessly about the events at the castle, including the Sirius Black sightings. “Thank Merlin that that dreadful werewolf resigned; I can’t believe they even hired him in the first place,” my mother tittered on. “Anyway, you shouldn’t worry about unpacking - in fact, start packing up your bags as soon as we come home. We’ve decided to take a last minute trip to America.” Her grin was exaggerated. 

That summer was spent in some remote area of North Dakota, most of which was remote anyway, in a cozy house overlooking a lot of grass. My brother came with us, though not his father. It was a simple time; we ventured into the local town on the weekends and met Americans, most of whom were friendly enough. Horse riding isn’t quite as fun as racing around on brooms, but it was a unique experience. My birthday came and went, and I received several letters from my friends, as well as one from father. Surprisingly, this was where the present I was most excited about came from: a Nimbus 2000. Sure, it was a few years out of date, but it was my own broom. It’s not like I would be playing Quidditch on it, anyway.

My brother and I took turns flying it around the fields surrounding our home, racing the family owl around. We returned to England a few weeks before term began, where I visited Cassidy. She and May had spent most of the holiday together.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

My sixth year at Hogwarts began with excitement as the Triwizard Tournament was announced, but it was undercut by the fact that it finally gave me the remaining context surrounding Cedric’s death. Just knowing that the Triwizard Tournament was occurring filled out my vision, which now haunted my dreams. The last task would be a maze, I knew. They would Portkey away at the end of it. Cedric would die to the killing curse.

My dreams were plagued with these nightmares every night since I caught my first glimpse of Cedric for the year. Trelawney had made me swear I wouldn’t share my visions with her unless they included prophecy, so I was stuck with these thoughts all alone. I know she could see me being eaten up by them, and she must have known from last year why. Or, perhaps not. Maybe she only knew Cedric would die young, but that didn’t necessarily mean at Hogwarts. I’m still unsure of how much she could gather from my Inner Eye unblocking a year ago.

My brother Ethan, however, was finally attending Hogwarts with me. On the first day, he was sorted into Slytherin, which was a surprise to both of us. Nonetheless, I was happy for him. Having a sibling in Hufflepuff House would have been welcome, but I was sure he would find a healthy group of friends in Slytherin anyway.

At any rate, the twins were up to their usual shenanigans, before the tournament competitors were even announced. I was there when they waltzed up to the goblet, turning around dramatically in performance. Fred and I hadn’t spoken until then, but when he caught my eye he gave a wink. I could have imagined it.

I refused to attend any of the events for the cup, instead sulking around in my room on the days of. The library was another place of refuge for me, being almost as empty as the common room on the days of the events. Cassidy didn’t understand why I didn’t want to go, but luckily didn’t press it, chalking it up to “special Seer stuff”.

The celebrations in the common room were harder to avoid. As Cedric would make it through each task, the parties only got longer and louder.

In any event, it was time to get a date for the Yule Ball and I had resigned myself to the raucous Anthony Rickett. He asked me immediately after Dumbledore had announced the Ball, and I accepted quickly. We were friendly enough, and it gave me the ability to decline any future questions from unfavorable dates - honestly, I was nervous about Fred asking me, as unlikely as it was. I couldn’t deny that my thoughts wandered to him many times, exacerbated by the distance yet familiarity with which we would speak. It was how the twins spoke to everybody, I was certain, yet my mind wanted to jump to conclusions that were more exciting.

When I heard that he was taking Angelina Johnson to the ball, my stomach did a weird flip. The name seemed familiar, beyond her position in Quidditch. Suddenly, I remembered where I knew her from: a vision of a happy future, for once.  _ George _ was going to marry Angelina. When I passed Fred in the hallways later, I quirked an eyebrow at him, “Angelina? Really?”

Fred raised his eyebrows, puzzled, but there wasn’t anything else to that interaction. We carried on with the year, punctuated by the Triwizard Tournament. Exams still had to be completed at the end of the year, and I focused all of my energies on them. Whenever I had a chance and it was nice out, I would go flying around on my broom. I wasn’t sure if that was allowed, exactly, but I couldn’t see any harm in it. 

When the Ball finally rolled around, it was the happiest I’d been the entire term. The Great Hall was decorated beautifully, and I felt absolutely sparkly. I even let Anthony kiss me. Of course, there were brief moments that caused a dip in my spirits - Cedric, looking handsome, smiling down at the beautiful Cho Chang, or Fred dancing animatedly with Angelina - but the joy would bounce back anyway. 

At one point, I was startled to see Cedric standing in front of me, asking to cut in. “If you don’t mind, of course, Anthony. Just for the song,” he said to my date.

It was then that I realized the song the Weird Sisters were performing was the one that was on the first time Cedric had told me he loved me. It was jarring to have his hands on my hips again, but I was curious about his intentions and let it happen. “Is Cho okay with this?” I asked.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have come over here if she wasn’t. She understands that I miss being your friend, Winnicott,” he said. Hesitantly, he added, “Is it okay with you?”

I swallowed. “You’re not too famous to be friends with a failed Quidditch try-out?”

“Oh, bugger off, Winnicott.”

The two of us laughed. I felt a pang in my heart, but I couldn’t pull away now. It was so unfair, I thought, that there was nothing I could do to save him. What was the purpose of this curse of mine, if not to save the people I love? The image of Cedric’s body flashed in my mind again, clearer than ever. I had to focus to stop the tears from forming.

“I want to be on speaking terms with you again,” Cedric said. “Come to the next event, please.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped away, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Cedric.”

“I understand,” he said with a sigh. He didn’t seem surprised. “Don’t be a stranger, Winnicott. We never really were.”

I nodded, then hurried away to my table. Anthony was chatting animatedly to some Ravenclaw, and welcomed me back like I was a puppy returning home. I didn’t mind. He was going to die old, happily married to someone that wasn’t me.

I avoided the next event.

My dreams were still wrought with nightmares, and I woke up every morning exhausted from my fitful sleep. The only reason it didn’t affect my classwork was because all of the professors were acting lax, with the excitement of the Tournament making everyone a little less focused on homework.

The day of the Third Task, which Cedric had progressed to easily, was one I dreaded. I spent the whole day trying not to think about it, trying to banish the image of Cedric from my mind, but was unsuccessful. I had somehow run into Fred and George a little bit before the event. Fred said, “Winnicott! The third task is a maze - you better hurry or you’ll miss it…”

I had stopped at the sight of them, wide eyed and with tears forming in my eyes for the millionth time that day. I felt a single tear fall, shocking me into action. I ran past them, wiping the tears away and hoping they wouldn’t be asking questions.

Later on, the news had come out that Cedric Diggory had died. Cassidy found me sobbing into my pillow. I have to admit, now, that I felt the tiniest bit of relief that I no longer had to keep this particular secret.

* * *

That summer, we again spent time in the North Dakota house, enjoying the slow, easy life. I had gotten my license to Apparate last year, which made it much easier to visit Cassidy and May. The two of them had decided to take a short vacation in New York, renting a flat. They invited me to stay with them for a week, where we entertained ourselves in the magical community of the city, which was as rich and vibrant as the muggle community. 

When I returned for my final year, my brother in his second year, I knew that in a year would be when our beloved headmaster would die. I had had conversations with him about his death before, since he seemingly knew that it would be occurring soon, but never shared the intimate details of it. He never shared many details with me either, only telling me that he expected to be killed by the Killing Curse, and that it would likely be a professor - or possibly a student - here.

This news was jarring, but it was far from the most bizarre of deaths that I knew of. There were several future Auror’s that were attending Hogwarts, which all had very interesting deaths. No, the most surreal news I had been delivered was that my future was set in stone, even if I couldn’t see it for myself.

“The  _ Ministry _ ? What do they need me, of all people, for?” I asked Professor Trelawney during our first meeting of the term. I glanced between her and Dumbledore, who was also present for the meeting. Also in the room was McGonnagall, who seemed to be there just as a witness.

“The Ministry does not have a Seer among their ranks, and you are remarkably reliable in your visions. I need not remind you of Cedric Diggory’s fate, which Trelawney told me afterwards had been predicted by you. The Ministry surely has their reasons for working with a Seer, perhaps for consultation, but I must confess that I expect they have other reasons for wanting you to join them immediately upon graduating.” He paused, but I already knew what he was going to say. “Alas, I fear they do not trust a Seer to act without a focused eye upon them. Pointless, if you ask me. They do not know what you see with your Eye any more than Minerva or I do, and we have been watching and advising you for seven years.”

“What do they think I’m going to do? Change the future? That’s not even possible,” I scoffed indignantly. Who was the Ministry to try to babysit me, a fully grown witch? I was perfectly capable of abiding by the law.

Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a look, while Trelawney stared downwards at nothing. “I think that it would be wise of you to take the position. It isn’t every day that a wonderful job falls into your lap, is it?” Trelawney eventually said, casting a glance at Dumbledore.

The headmaster nodded. “Indeed. Though I know that although it may be an offer, I hesitate to think that the Ministry will not be persistent in bugging you to work with them. From my understanding, the offer stands indefinitely. You need not accept - or decline - it right this moment.”

Any other words that were exchanged were irrelevant. I had to think about the offer from the Ministry. Had Dumbeldore been communicating with them since I arrived at Hogwarts?

It wasn’t a complicated decision. I hadn’t had any idea of what I wanted to do with my life after graduating. I could have gone into potions, or perhaps something to do with charms, but this seemed like a considerable option. It didn’t feel like settling, either. I doubt I would be locked into the decision, anyway. 

When I accepted the offer, I didn’t tell anyone about it except for my mother. She owled back to me immediately with her congratulations, promising not to share the news with anyone until it was official.

The next meeting I had with Trelawney, the first official one, was important as there was a development with my sight. I was increasingly seeing visions that had nothing to do with death. I even saw the first-born child of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. She nodded, but told me nothing useful. Instead, she had a warning for me from Dumbledore: “I’ve been told that Dolores Umbridge, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, is trying to take the Headmaster position. It is imperative that we do not alert her to our meetings, or to the ext4ent your abilities. As such, Dumbledore kindly requested that we no longer meet.”

I was bewildered by this decision, and Trelawney would not elaborate on why we couldn’t disclose these meetings to Umbridge. The answer came a week later, when I spotted her tittering about the castle, sitting in on classes and being generally, unfathomably annoying. Of course, Umbridge could not stay away from me. Being registered with the Ministry, she knew I was a Seer. She didn’t know how good I was, according to Trelawney, but she still pestered me with talk about working with the Ministry. I was probably the only student to get off easy on her punishments.

“So, what’s your in?” Fred Weasley sat down to my left, startling me, at breakfast the third Saturday of term. 

Before I could answer, George sat down to my right, causing me to drop my spoon into my yogurt. “Yeah, we’ve noticed Umbridge doesn’t hate you just as much as she hates everybody else. Why didn’t you get detention for talking in class?”

He was referring to their last DADA lesson, where I asked a question that seemed a bit dim. I had to come up with some excuse that would explain it to the twins, but came up short. “I - uh,” I sputtered. “I’m a distant relative.”

“Yeah, and I’m her uncle,” Fred said. “No way your pretty face is related to that frog. Not a chance.”

“What’s the truth, Winnicott?” George pushed.

I huffed, looking around the Great Hall. More students were starting to arrive, breaking the peace of the early morning. “Fine. If you must know, I’m lined up for a position with the Ministry once I graduate. She’s… fond of that, I suppose,” I said in a whisper, adding, “Don’t you dare tell anyone else about this.”

“Your secret is safe with us, Winnicott. It’s quite boring, actually,” George responded.

“What were you hoping to hear?” I asked, genuinely curious.

The two shared a look over me which meant I should expect a troubling response. “Well, honestly, I was hoping to hear you had shagged her or something,” Fred said.

I gasped, then swatted at his arm. “You - you’re awful! Terrible boys! Get away from me,” I was starting to cause a little commotion, swatting at the two of them now.

We were interrupted by some tutting, and I stopped in my swinging to see Umbridge standing on the other side of the table. “Students are not permitted to sit at tables not assigned to their House. Detention, Fred and George Weasley.”

She walked away, and Fred and George gaped. “Not even a mention of the abuse!” Fred cried.

“Must be a nice job you’ve got lined up, Winnicott,” George commented as the two of them walked off.

I huffed, staring into my yogurt. _Must be_ , I thought.

Even Fred and George’s spirit seemed to be damaged, I noticed over the coming weeks. They had brilliant inventions making their rounds through Hogwarts, but they weren’t satisfied with putting students into terrible detentions with Umbridge. Strangely, they seemed more distant from me. It could have been in my head - it’s not like we had been close friends before Umbridge’s reign - but I felt like they weren’t interested in associating with me. My best guess was that they were bothered by the fact that I was able to get away with things - not that I was doing much - while students using their tricks and treats were constantly being punished.

Whatever, I thought. It’s not like I’m doing anything worth getting detention for, anyway. They’d be putting students in detention whether it was Umbridge or Dumbledore running the school… right?

I felt bad, but I couldn’t focus anyway. I had started to see double the number of visions as I strolled through the hallways, sat in class, and did anything really. I wasn’t just predicting deaths anymore; I knew Neville Longbottom would grow into quite the handsome man. McGonagall would eventually become Headmaster. 

I tended to space out, since I wasn’t able to pause the visions effectively. Or ignore them. Or do anything, really, since I was no longer receiving help from Trelawney on how to manage my growing abilities. I frequently bumped into people in the halls. 

Once, when I had managed to say hello to my brother, he looked at me with disgust. “Do you know what my friends are saying about you? That you’re spacey. You’re a freak. I don’t want people to see me talking to you.”

It hurt to hear that. We would make up, one day, I knew. I saw us decorating his flat in London one day. I was going to live next door.

“Ugh, you’re even doing it now. Leave me alone,” the twelve-year-old Slytherin added before walking off.

I drifted away from even Cassidy, not able to focus on a single conversation for more than a minute without getting random flashes of her future. Spending time alone in the dormitory was the time I was most lucid, and most sad. Without the distraction of the visions, I was painfully aware of how much of my life I was missing out on. I checked out endless books about the sight from the library, but it wasn’t nearly as well researched as I had hoped. One chapter in  _ Sort of Seeing, Memoirs from a Wannabe _ suggested the practice of meditation to improve focus. I wasn’t very good at it,

Teaching myself control over my sight was so incredibly difficult that I grew to realize that I had been taking Professor Trelawney for granted. She had been helping me in ways that I hadn’t been able to see, because I hadn’t gone in the wrong direction under her guidance. I missed her presence at the school, but I eventually managed to get somewhat of a handle on it by the time exams rolled around; I was able to focus better, but it took so much effort that I was sweating through every exam.

I wasn’t surprised when Fred and George flew off in a shower of fireworks at the end of term. I was in the middle of a Potions exam when they did it and ran off to see them. It wasn’t like my N.E.W.T.’s mattered, anyway.

When I left Hogwarts that year, I sat in a compartment with Cassidy and May. My focus had developed just enough to hold a conversation with a very small number of people at a time. The two of them were excitedly chatting about what they wanted to do now that we had graduated, and I finally told them that I would be working for the Ministry.

“Wow, I wouldn’t have pegged you for that,” Cassidy commented. She frowned at me. I knew, not through the Sight but through my knowledge of my friend, that she felt left out of my life.

“What made you want to jump into working so soon?” asked May.

I shrugged. “The opportunity came up, I guess. It’s not like I’m signing my life away. It’s just a job. Actually,” I hesitated. I hadn’t told Cassidy about my parents’ divorce, but it was time. “I need to support my mom, for a bit. The house in North Dakota… that’s where she’s moving, permanently. It was expensive, you know.”

The two of them nodded understandingly, and just at that moment there was a knock at the compartment door. Before any of us could answer, Anthony Rickett slid it open. “Hey, Winnicott,” he said with a smile. The two of us hadn’t spoken since the year Cedric was killed, and I had no idea why he might want to now.

As it turned out, I was Anthony’s only non-Quidditch friend other than Michael McNanus, who had followed him into the compartment. Seeing as Quidditch had ended, it was just the two of them. He wanted to catch up, apparently. Suddenly, our group of three turned into a group of five. Anthony and Michael were actually pretty fun, and we got along much better than I would have ever expected. It was nice to have them, though it was more difficult for me to focus with all four of them present. I survived, though, and we said our goodbyes at the station. Anthony and Michael had promised to write, and I shared a tearful goodbye with Cassidy.

“You better not start acting too good for us now that you’re a big shot at the Ministry!” she laughed. “Write to me all about it. Me and May will visit you in London anytime.” The two of them had made plans to spend some time in Paris together before figuring their lives out, as they put it.

With that, I was to begin the rest of my life.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

I hated my job. No, I hate my job, actively, as of writing this diary. When I began my job at the Ministry, I had no idea how terrible it would really be. I was put into a small room with purple walls and a wooden desk. This was to be my office.

Across from my desk sat a single, comfortable-looking chair. From then on, I was seeing people sit there every single day for the next several years of my life. My job was to catalogue every death from within the Ministry as I possibly could, especially the Aurors.

It had actually been my job to record the deaths of the Aurors exclusively, at first. Every day, a different member of the team would walk in with varying levels of nerves, not knowing what to expect. Of course, I couldn’t tell them anything about how they would die, so they would often wander out confused or annoyed. I must have given the first few quite a fright, as I hadn’t gotten accustomed to seeing all of the gruesome ways in which an Auror could die yet. The look on my face as I had visions about them must have been one of horror.

Eventually, I ran out of Aurors to observe. I started to meet other members of the Ministry, including Percy Weasley and Fred and George’s dad. Arthur Weasley was a very nice, very innocent man. I couldn’t help trying to see him in the coming battle at Hogwarts, and my heart wrenched as I watched him grieve Fred. I still don’t know why I thought to do that.

I assume that the purpose of my examining the members of the Ministry was to sort out traitors, seeing as _You-Know-Who_ had been on the rise at that time. I’m sorry to say that some of them indeed died on the wrong side, but how that helped the Ministry I wasn’t sure. As far as I knew, there was no way to change the future, so my job was basically pointless. I truly was just being babysat by the Ministry. It was infuriating.

I hadn’t made this conclusion until a few weeks before September, when my brother would be going off to Hogwarts for his third year. Now a moody thirteen year old, he was dropped off with me for an afternoon as his father wanted some time for work and wasn’t interested in looking at the “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes” shop in Diagon Alley. Honestly, neither was I. I took my brother to the shop only because it was the first time he almost wanted to spend time with me since his second year. So, I took my afternoon off and brought my brother to the Weasley twins’ shop.

The shop was colorful and exciting, not to mention crowded. It was chock full of items of all kinds, and I found myself drawn to the WonderWitches display, while my brother moved to take a look at the pranks. The pygmy puffs were almost unreasonably adorable, and picked one up to take a closer look at it as I was startled by the appearance of two boys.

Fred and George were, as usual, on either side of me. “Winnicott!” the two of them greeted, in sync as ever.

“Long time, no see, yeah?” George added.

“You look awfully stuffy - oh, Georgie, I recognize this.”

“Of course, it’s Ministry-chic!”

The two of them were having a riot as they commented on my attire, which was most decidedly… Ministry Chic. The short cape I had on around my shoulders was plum and dated, though I liked to think it was timeless, and even my hair was pinned back in an almost sterile fashion.

“What happened to you, Winnicott?” Fred asked.

“I - I work for the Ministry,” I said, stuttering. 

“Well, we can tell that. You’re dressed like Percy! I always thought you were more like us, Winnicott,” Fred responded. Something about the way he used my last name sparked annoyance with me.

“I suppose she’s not, Fred. Seems just as stuffy as the rest of ‘em,” George said.

“Even the hair-” Fred said, stopping short as the two of them, without missing a beat, pulled out the two bobby pins that had my hair pulled away from my face. My hair was now dangling down in untidy waves, and I could feel pieces brushing against my cheek. “Much better!” Fred cheered.

There was a beat of silence. I didn’t know how to respond to what just happened, and the twins seemed to both lose their thunder as I glanced wildly between them. I thought I saw Fred reach for a piece of my hair that was falling into my eyes, but I tucked it behind my ear in the same moment. “Right,” I started. “Thanks for the suggestion, boys. Now, ah, I’ll take this little guy.”

I held up an obnoxiously pink Pygmy Puff, which had fallen asleep in my hands. “Plus whatever that kid wants,” I said, gesturing to my brother carrying an armful of Puking Pastilles.

When we finished shopping, checked out by some kid that wasn’t a Weasley, I ushered my brother out of the store quickly so as to not have another encounter with the owners.

“Did you know them?” my brother asked as we strolled along to Madame Malkin’s.

“Oh, uhm, sorta.”

After spending the day shopping with my brother, who was much happier with me now that he knew “sorta” knew the owners of what was now his favorite joke shop, I dropped him off with the promise of taking him to see the shop again sometime. 

The pygmy puff, which I now called Cotton, slept on my bedside table that night. It was a constant reminder of the twins. I brought it to my office the following day, where it lived for the rest of its life as the only constant companion of mine that I could fathom.

Anthony Rickett and Michael McNanus wrote to me sometimes, talking about their lives and their job searches. Michael was living with his parents in Scotland and invited me to come to his sister’s wedding in December. Anthony lived in London, and sent along an invitation to his flat, where he was gathering some friends and old members of the Quidditch team for a drink one night. I declined Anthony’s invitation and left Michael’s sitting on my desk, unsure of if I wanted to go.

I took my brother to Diagon Alley again before the start of his term, this time waiting outside of the joke shop as he shopped around inside with some money I gave him. This time, I had a vision of him that I was displeased by: he would be fighting at Hogwarts the night of _You-Know-Who’s_ demise.

Once the term started for him, I no longer had any reason to see Fred and George. But I somehow found one.

It was October when Michael McNanus dropped by my office. I had been in the middle of working out some paperwork - there were incredibly complex forms to be filled out that would never be looked at, of course - when the door flew open. Michael had a knack for the dramatics, as most of the people in my life seemed to.

“Emily Winnicott, would you care to explain why you haven’t RSVP'd for my wedding yet?” Michael said, leering over my desk. He caught sight of the invitation, shoved away in the corner of my desk under Cotton. “Ah. See, I had my wife convinced that you had lost it. Apparently not!”

I sat back and started, “I - Michael I’m sorry. I didn’t - wasn’t sure about work…”

“Don’t give me that, Emily!” Michael was exasperated. “We all know about your aversion to socializing. Ever since sixth year you’ve been avoiding talking to anyone at all! I don’t care why you’re doing it - you won’t even tell Cassidy, have you talked to her in the past five months, by the way? - but you have to give it up. I want you at my wedding.”

“Even Fred and George said they’d come,” he added.

I looked down into my lap. “I’ll be there,” I said quietly.

“Come to Anthony’s thing this weekend too, won’t you?” he asked, more softly this time. “We miss seeing you, Em. We haven’t all gotten together since July.”

I nodded, but didn’t promise anything. Michael was right, after all. I had been avoiding going out like the plague, more than ever not wanting to add to my steadily increasing body count for the next year or so.

That weekend, I sent an owl in the morning to Anthony letting him know that I’d be coming by. He responded immediately, happy to hear from me. I stood outside of his door for several minutes, pacing back and forth nervously. As I paced past his door for the fourth time, it opened and Anthony poked his head out. “Ready to come in yet?”

Apparently, Anthony, Cassidy, and Michael all recalled my affinity for arriving early, because they were all there waiting. “Really, Em, I got here an hour ago. You’re losing at your own game,” Cassidy greeted. She was positively glowing with good cheer, May by her side with a similar expression. After I comfortably greeted everyone, not allowing the visions to overwhelm me, Cassidy stood on top of the small coffee table in the center of the room. “Everyone! Hear ye’ hear ye’! I have gathered you all here today to share great news! May and I have decided to get married!” She all but squealed in the end.

Immediately, we all erupted with congratulations. I saw May hugging Michael’s fiancee - Ruby, if I recall correctly - and wondered idly how much this group had gathered without me. 

The six of us, Anthony and I being the only single ones in the room, celebrated together for about an hour before the rest of the guests arrived, at which point Anthony slipped next to me. “You don’t have to stay for the whole time. I suggested we start so early so you had a chance to celebrate with us,” he said quietly.

I was touched by his consideration. “That’s so thoughtful, Anthony.”

Because of his gesture, I stayed for about half an hour. It was as long as I could take, and I had begun sweating at that point. I discreetly said my goodbyes and left.

The evening left me longing. I had thoroughly enjoyed the time with my close friends, who apparently missed my presence. I made a mental note to send Cassidy flowers as I stepped out into the chilly October air. I had such a nice night that I was wondering if I should do it more often. Was I shying away from people because I couldn’t handle the visions, or was it just because they scared me?

I looked myself in the mirror once I Apparated home. If only Fred and George could see me now, so cool and casual. My hair was down, and I had even put on a bit of makeup for the occasion. My dress wasn’t showy, but it was certainly flattering. I had a sudden thought about the boys, which was that I easily could have been friends with them at Hogwarts. We had spoken enough, but my Sight ruined everything for me. Now, though, I think it may have only ruined things because I let it. 

The next day, which I had off, I popped into the Weasley joke shop. I wasn’t wearing my standard Ministry robes, instead dressing comfortably as a muggle would. Jeans and a T-shirt, paired with a cloak that was admittedly plum. My hair was down. I did my best to look relaxed as I idly browsed the shop, less crowded now that the term had started. I came across a Pumpkinhead Pastry alongside the usual Puking Pastilles, and took two of each to send to my brother.

“Trying to get out of work, Winnicott?” Fred Weasley asked from above, on a staircase I hadn’t noticed before.

“Aren’t you supposed to be running a shop here?” I asked, looking around at the unattended customers.

“Our regulars don’t need any help. You, on the other hand…” His eyes looked me up and down with scrutiny before his expression burst into mock surprise. “Heeeey, you’ve loosened up a bit, ‘ave ya? Maybe you’re not a lost cause, unlike my poor brother. Georgie, come take a look at Emily.”

I was startled to hear my first name come from Fred’s mouth, but if he did so accidentally was impossible to tell as George arrived at his side out of nowhere.

“Ah! She’s human!” he said dramatically.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I teased. “Come to think of it, I can’t remember where I was the last full moon.” I feigned deep thought, then turned to them with a grin that matched theirs. “I’ll take these, by the way.”

“Wonderful, I’ll have those wrapped up for you right away then,” George said quickly. He winked and zipped off to the counter where packages were wrapping themselves. 

“So who are the pastries and pastilles for, then?” Fred asked, leaning casually on the railing as he spoke.

“What, they can’t be for me?” I feigned. “No, actually, they’re for my brother. He’s a third year. I saw him grab a bunch of these things the first time we were in here.”

Fred nodded, looking me up and down again. “What do you do for the Ministry, anyway?” he sounded like he was trying to be interested. I almost laughed, but appreciated the attempt.

“Oh, boring stuff. Up there, though. I get to personally talk to each member about their lives,” I said. It was pretty close to what the Ministry had told me to tell people when they asked what I did, but I wasn’t interested in saying “on-site counselling and advice practitioner”.

“So, like the Ministry therapist?” he asked, scrunching up his face.

This time, I did laugh. “Sorta, yeah. What do I owe ya?”

After I paid, I left the shop in high spirits with a wave back to the boys. When I got home, I wrote out a note to attach to the package for my brother. I told him all about how I was friends with the Weasleys, and we really had to step in there more often. I also added an “I love you” to the end, in speaking pink ink, to embarrass him a bit. When he opened the letter at breakfast, it would read the sentence out in a sing-song voice. I giggled at the thought; he was only thirteen, sure to glance around furiously before putting it away to read later. I sent the letter, and the package, off with my owl to Hogwarts.

In the next two months, I stopped into the joke shop a few times. Once or twice, just to say hello, but often to buy a little something for my brother. The twins came by to chat with me each time, despite the other regulars who hardly got as much attention. I also sent the most beautiful bouquet I could find to Cassidy and May, who wrote back with a lovely thank-you note. I went to Anthony’s occasional weekend hangout, and we spent time together outside of them, too. I wanted to be a good friend again, like I was before I let the Sight stop me from living my life.

December neared, and I stopped in the shop for the last time before it would be packed with students on holiday. This time, the shop was nearly empty. Only a few customers browsed, one of them even accompanied by George. Fred greeted me as I entered, “Winnicott! Welcome back.”

“Good to see ya,” I said casually, looking around. “Anything new?”

He took me through the new items for sale, even mentioning a few they were planning on debuting once the students come back. I jumped to attention as he said, “Of course, we haven’t decided if we should let Camryn run the shop for a day or if we should just close it for the wedding Georgie and I are attending. I figure, he’s been here for months and still can’t tell the difference between a Dungbomb and a Bombtastic bomb, so the place is sure to fall apart-”

“Wait a second, did you say wedding? That doesn’t happen to be the McNanus wedding, does it?” I asked, trying to recall what Michael had said when he burst into my office months ago.

“That’s the one. You know ‘em? Oh! Yes, you Hufflepuff, you! Of course you knew Michael. Great guy, he is. S’pose I’ll see you there, then?”

When December rolled around, I was somehow still surprised to see the twins there, even though Fred had told me himself they were going. It seemed unlike them, for some reason, but I supposed it was a large wedding.

I sat with the assortment of former Hogwarts students that turned up, some of which were murmuring things like “I can’t believe how young they are to be getting married” and “do you think she’s knocked up?”

Directly to my right was Cassidy and May, tearful and holding hands for the whole ceremony. The ceremony itself was beautiful, with enchanted sparkling snow falling all around them. Anthony stood as the best man, and he gave me a thumbs-up when we locked eyes. The bride and groom were teary-eyed as they spoke their vows. The whole experience was ethereal - more than that, it was magical.

The reception was where the fun was, of course. Cassidy and May both wore gorgeous gowns that sparkled in the camera flashes all night. The three of us had gone dress shopping for the occasion, and they fitted me with a similar yet fluffier dress, with crushed velvet and fewer sparkles. May had quite the eye for fashion, as it turned out.

“Hello, Gorgeous,” I heard a chorus from behind me. Of course, it was Fred and George Weasley. The two of them were, predictably, wearing matching suits. 

Fred started to speak, but just then a voice to my right called, “Emily!” 

I turned to see Anthony, grinning with a glass of wine in each hand. As he approached, he greeted the Weasleys. “‘Ello, boys. Nice party, innit?”

“Oh, yes.”

“We were just off to dance.”

“See you around, yeah?”

The two of them spoke interchangeably, then disappeared off into the crowd forming on the dance floor. I grinned as Anthony handed me the glass. “Isn’t it incredible? Our friends are married!”

“Let’s go tell them how incredible it is,” Anthony agreed, and we hurried over to Michael and Ruby’s table. We celebrated with them, clinking glasses and chatting happily. I shuddered, though, as a vision of them tried to creep its way into my mind. It took a lot of self control to shove it away for later. I didn’t want to see the future, happy or sad, right then. I wanted to be in the present.

The moment then carried the six of us to the dance floor, where we were probably the coolest kids in the room, for once. Always aware of them, I could see Fred and George taking a break from the dancing as they chatted to the people at what Anthony had dubbed the “Quidditch table” - which was full of Michael’s old friends from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team in fifth year.

I sauntered over to the table, recognizing several of the faces there. “WINNICOTT!” the table cheered as I arrived. They were as rowdy as I’d seen them the mornings before games. I took a small bow, to which they clapped. As I rose, I saw Fred and George had also been clapping.

“We’ve a proper celebrity in our midst, Georgie,” Fred commented.

“Seems so, Freddy,” George said.

I laughed at their remarks, which were even funnier after several glasses of wine. I sat with the team, cuing Fred and George to also sit. The chatter wasn’t memorable, but the fun was. I was having the time of my life.

The song changed as I was listening to a conversation about International Quidditch, prompting the twins to jump up out of their seats. The two of them grinned at each other before splitting up; I watched as George tapped the shoulder of a woman standing next to him. The two of them wandered up to the dance floor, where a slow song was playing. I realized that the table had quieted then, and looked up to find Fred standing next to my chair.

“Care for a dance?” he asked.

Deciding that it couldn’t hurt, I took his outstretched hand. He pulled me eagerly to the dance floor and held me close. His hands were gently holding me by the waist, and I moved mine to either side of his neck. I wasn’t sure what to say, so we danced in silence for a minute.

“This is Georgie and me’s song,” Fred said, breaking the quiet.

“Why aren’t you dancing with him, then?” I asked, glancing over to where George was dancing with a beautiful blonde. The two of them seemed to be having a great time, laughing at something I couldn’t hear.

“Well that’s against the rules, innit?,” he said, spinning us around. “We have this deal - got to find someone to dance with if the song is on, and if you can’t... “ He seemed confused for a second. “Well, I suppose we haven’t figured that out. S’pose neither of us have ever lost.” He grinned at me.

I giggled, watching his eyes sparkle with the glimmer of reflected light. “Every time the song is on?”

“Oh yeah. Though, it’s not their best song I, s’pose. Don’t hear it often on the radio.”

I nodded, not taking my eyes off of his. When the song ended, I was sad to part from him, forgetting all about the vision that had frightened me for so long. He walked me to my table, but we weren’t sitting long before I was dragged away by the wedding party for group photos and group dances.

I don’t remember saying goodbye to the twins, but I stopped seeing their faces around at some point in the night many hours before I went home myself.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the shortest so far; I happen to like where it ends :) Not too much left in the fic, I hope you are enjoying the ride so far!

From time to time in the coming months I would stop in the Weasley shop, mostly to send my brother presents. After Albus Dumbeldore’s death in June, I notified the Ministry that I would be taking an indefinitely long leave of absence, the reason being a vision of which they would be unable to question me on. I knew the fall of the Ministry was coming, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I could, however, collect my things and make a run for it.

I picked up my brother from King’s Cross Station that year, without either of our parents present. We immediately took a Portkey to the North Dakota house, where we hid away for the rest of the summer. When I told my mother that I would like to stay with my mother during the fall and winter months, rather than return to work in the Ministry, I told her about some of what I predicted for the next year.

She agreed that the best move to make would be to lay low, and America was so distant that it almost seemed like the rise of  _ You-Know-Who _ wasn’t actually happening. Still, there were the little reminders. The Ilvermorny school was issuing warnings to the North American witches and wizards, suggesting minimal use of magic and no mentions of  _ You-Know-Who _ if they can be avoided.

Ilvermorny also invited students from Hogwarts who might not be able to attend this year onto their campus, offering education for as long as was needed. I wasn’t aware of any witch or wizard taking advantage of this, but I thought it was a nice offer. When we heard Hogwarts was no longer accepting students that were not purebloods, we were hesitant to allow my brother to return for the year. He insisted, however, and I saw him off.

That year in North Dakota was cold. My brother didn’t return for breaks; instead, he stayed at his father’s place in London. When he owl’ed, I knew that he was omitting details, but I also knew that he was safe. It was during the summer that I had visions of him snickering with his Slytherin housemates in class, protected by their blood status and house status. I was worried about the type of person my little brother could become under such conditions, but I was more worried about his safety, so I didn’t address it. I also omitted these predictions from my mother, preferring only to tell her that I knew he would be safe.

On May 1st, I got into a heated argument with my mother about the following day’s events. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing as the students of Hogwarts would be fighting a war that should not be theirs. My mother and I screamed at each other. She went to bed crying, I went to bed angry. When I got the summons for assistance from the Dumbelore’s Army coin, which I joined in my final year at Hogwarts, I Apparated there without another word to my mother.

The battle was like nothing I could have expected, of course entirely different being lived through rather than seen through the eyes of those around me like I had been doing for my entire life. The castle was dusty and dilapidated, already full of rubble by the time I arrived. I found myself in a corridor, minutes before midnight, cut and bruised. I was filthy from the rush of battle, which made my head spin. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, refusing to let me settle and think clearly.

Minutes before midnight. There was something important that I had to remember, but I didn’t know what it was. My brain was exhausted, as many of my visions had been coming to fruition. I could feel it as each one completed. And then I remembered, and the feelings I had the first time I had the vision all came rushing back.

Fred Weasley. An explosion. His body, lifeless and crushed by bits of broken castle wall. I swallowed thickly. My mind raced, I had no more than ten minutes before I would be feeling this vision draw to a close, never to weigh on my mind again. Fred’s face, grimy and sweaty from battle. The image morphed in my mind as memories took hold: the way his eyes crinkled as he laughed, the freckles on his face. The feeling of his hands on my waist as we danced. The feeling of his lips pressed against mine in fifth year.

My eyes had been squeezed shut as I tried to picture his smiling face instead of the lifeless one, but flew open. A nearby explosion in the castle shook the floor beneath my feet, and my stomach dropped.  _ I should have done something. It was Cedric all over again -  _ but wait, I thought. That wasn’t the one. I had five minutes.

Fred’s smile flashed in my memory again. I couldn’t let Fred Weasley die.

My legs carried me in a direction I was unfamiliar with but trusted wholeheartedly. My feet tingled as they hit the ground with every step, my strides lengthening in my sprint. I can’t let Fred die, I thought to myself. All I could feel was the thumping of my heart, not only in my chest but in my stomach, my ears, my veins. I could feel my fingers, gripping my wand so tightly, pulsating with my heartbeat.

I wasn’t going to let my visions mean nothing. I couldn’t do this, not another Cedric. I can save a life, I thought. I have to do this. Screw the rules. I knew how to save Fred from death, how could a vision be so set in stone? I believed wholeheartedly in that moment that I had been fed lies ever since I was a child, being told that I can’t change the future. Fuck that.

Fred came into my vision at just the right moment. “ _ Protego!” _ I cast the spell in a scream, wildly waving my wand in what I hoped was the right direction. Fred, Percy, Ron, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter turned to me in confusion at the same moment the wall blasted with an explosion. I finally stopped running, doubling over into heaving breaths that turned into coughs. I couldn’t stand straight, couldn’t see if it worked. I felt tears in my eyes from the dust. I felt something trigger my gag reflex, and my entire body was suddenly drenched in sweat. A headache pounded in my temples.

Footsteps approached me, but my vision felt blurred. Something isn’t right, I thought as shoes appeared in my sight. They were dusty and scratched, but familiar. I looked up at Fred’s face, eyebrows knit with concern. 

“You alright, Winnicott?” he asked.

I couldn’t help but laugh as pure elation coursed through my body. The war wasn’t won, not yet, but this battle had been. Fred helped me up, and pain shot up my leg from my right foot. “Woah there, looks like you rolled your ankle pretty rough there,” Percy commented. “That was an incredible shot, by the way.”

I laughed again. They didn’t even realize what just happened. I laughed again. Bursts of single, dry laughs kept erupting from me sporadically, until they turned into tears. I wiped at my eyes, trying to hide the tears.

“How did you know that the wall was going to explode? I think you saved our lives,” the smartest witch of the age said. I didn’t respond, instead trying to steady myself. I couldn’t even remember when I had rolled my ankle, but it must have been when I cast the spell.

“Great work,” Fred muttered. “But, are you alright?”

I was wonderful. Fred Weasley stood in front of me, living and breathing and… something was wrong. I couldn’t place my worry, but dread filled my body. It was like all of the anxiety I had ever experienced decided to return to me, right then, as image after image of faces frozen in their death flashed in my mind. I almost doubled over again, held up only by Fred, still clutching my arm. I realized then that I still hadn’t answered Fred, but I wasn’t able to since we were then interrupted by curses flying at them from all directions. 

A greasy death eater stood where the wall had collapsed, shooting curses at them now that the shield charm had gone. Percy moved towards him, glancing back at Fred. “I’m good, Perce,” Fred said, and Percy was off chasing the man with a shout.

The trio next to me and Fred had been conversing and said they had something to take care of. “Will you two be alright?” asked Harry.

Fred nodded, urging them to go. “You’re going to the infirmary.”

I didn’t argue as Fred led me in the direction of the Great Hall. I couldn’t speak; something strange was happening in my mind that made me lose grip on my thoughts. It felt like my visions were rewriting themselves, or somehow otherwise changing. Every vision I recalled that had yet to be completed felt like it had a double exposure, like the quill that wrote my thoughts was going back over itself, scribbling out words and rewriting new ones above, below, in front, or even on top of the old ones. My head started to pound. Thinking of Fred hurt the most, like I was looking at a piece of parchment that wasn’t supposed to exist, let alone have the words “Fred walked ahead” written on them.

“This isn’t working for me,” Fred said. We came to a halt, and I saw his back appear in front of me. “Hop on.”

He gave me a ride on his back the rest of the way to the Great Hall, which freed up his hands so that he could cast more comfortably. He deflected spells that flew in our direction a few times as we passed through in the midst of battle.  
When he let me down at the Great Hall, he looked at me with the most serious face I had ever seen him carry. “You’re going to be okay,” he said with such an intensity that I believed him, my mind clearing for just a moment. I nodded. “I’m going to go back out there, but I’ll be back. I promise.”

There was a knot in my throat as he walked away, and I dropped to the floor. My mind was a mess, but I tried to recall anything useful that I could. I knew for certain that Harry Potter would die in old age, which meant that we must win this battle. I knew that my brother was out there somewhere, fighting on the right side. One of his friends, a mousy looking boy, would have needlessly cast a Killing Curse on someone by now. My brother would see the horror in it, finally settling in that this wasn’t the side he wanted to be on. He would flee, and fight on the right side - but something felt fuzzy now. My head began to pound when I thought too hard on it, so I let my brother slip from my mind.

Instead, I crawled over to where tables were being set up. I hoisted myself up onto a chair, lifting my foot onto the table for better blood flow. There were students and adults streaming into the place regularly, each with an injury being nursed.

In time, a chilling voice was broadcast throughout the building. The same voice from before that had announced the battle. Harry Potter would surrender himself to death in one hour, according to  _ You Know Who _ . I shook my head, which only made it hurt again. I resolved to sit still, watching the Hogwarts defense begin to regroup in the area.

My heart physically ached at the sight of people streaming in, with the bodies of deceased levitating ahead of them. And then I felt a brief spell of dizziness as I saw a body bright red hair float into the Hall. I forced myself to stand up, landing on my injured foot with a gasp of pain, trying to see better. Not Fred, I begged. I’m in control now, I know. I have to be. It’s not Fred, I insisted with myself.

Of course, I was right. It wasn’t Fred Weasley whose body was now being lowered to the ground. No. It was George.

And that was how I found out that I had killed George Weasley.

* * *

  
  


Fred hadn’t meant to open the blue book, innocently sitting at the desk in the corner of the room. And he had certainly not intended to read the first page, or the subsequent one. He most surely did not hope to uncover the deepest secrets of Emily Winnicott, who had chosen to write this diary on the advice of Hermione Granger.

No, he hadn’t intended to do any of this. He liked to sneak innocent things: sweets to his kids, pranks on his wife. He didn’t mean to sneak through anybody’s personal belongings, not one as dark as this. 

There had just been something different in him when he sat down that morning. It was almost like the book had been left there with intention. Of course, he had seen it before, innocuously tucked away along with the books on her desk. Or under a few leaves of parchment. He knew that she had it, and knew what it was every time he saw it. Yet, she still liked to keep it out of direct reach. So why had it been laying front and center on her desk that morning? He couldn’t help but take that first look.

When he read the last line, the line that incriminated Emily Winnicott for the death of his dearly beloved twin brother, he had to put the book down. 

He was conflicted, staring at the book that now lay open on the desk. It stared at him, as if daring him to read on. He wanted to, he really did. He wanted to understand why this had happened, what it meant. He didn’t want to feel all of the anger that he was feeling. Looking down at his hands, he wasn’t surprised to see he was shaking. There was a physical response in his body to the anger he tried to push away.

He didn’t want to believe in his wife’s diary. It wasn’t true, surely. Or, what if it was? His mind spun in circles, trying to understand how he felt. Why he was angry. Should he be angry?

He cast a glance to the door, which stood ajar. Emily would be returning from her outing with the kids soon. He had unintentionally spent his entire day reading about the intimate details of his wife’s life, many of which had never been shared with him. He was charmed by the effect that the adolescent version of himself had on her, back in their Hogwarts days. It was nice to see that they had shared the same feelings for longer than either of them had realized.

The book lay open, tantalizing. There was still more to be read, it seemed. He picked up the book and skipped ahead a bit, just to see what there was left. There wasn’t too much. He looked at the clock. He had some time.

Feeling the slightest bit guilty, but also finally vindicated in his decision to pick up the book in the first place, Fred read on.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

I hadn’t realized then, exactly, that it was my fault that George Weasley died. It was a guess, a gut instinct, that it had something to do with me. It was too obvious - one twin was supposed to die, so take the other instead, right?

Except, that wasn’t exactly how the Sight worked. The research I’ve conducted since this event has led me to believe that when a Seer takes personal involvement into the events that they predict, that a calamity will befall them much worse than the one they had been trying to be saved. “Whatever thou changes in the fabric of reality, be it with good intentions or evil intentions, shall return to you in threefold.” It was an old sentiment, but Divination is an old practice. “Beware the Rule of Three!” and all that.

It is for this reason that I believe a number of negative things befell me that I had not previously predicted.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from George Weasley. Madame Pomfrey arrived to mend my foot when I turned to see another familiar body floating into the room. My brother’s dark hair came into view first, unmistakeable. I covered my mouth in a silent, open-mouthed scream. Pomfrey was too exhausted to address it as she finished mending my foot. When she stepped away, I leapt to my feet and sprinted to my brother’s side. I was immensely relieved to see that he was breathing.

“He’s alive, but barely,” commented the wizard who had carried him into the room. “He was hit by two spells at one - my apologies, but I couldn’t discern which ones.”

I nodded, still unable to speak. I felt nauseous. The wizard walked away, and I was left alone to crouch over my brother. Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. He would be alright, I was sure of it. I couldn’t see his future anymore, but I believed in it. He would be alright.

A scream wrenched me from my thoughts as I saw Fred’s face again, this time in front of George’s body. I heard his pleas with his brother, begging him to be alive. I felt a lump return to my throat. I felt guilty, though at the time I would not have been able to say why, and I was certain it showed on my face. Tears finally fell from my eyes. Now freed from being so held back, I sobbed freely. Fred’s wild eyes caught mine in a split second, and I felt panic shoot through me. I stood up and bolted out of the room. I sank down against the wall just outside of the Great Hall, still able to hear the sobs.

I drew my face to my knees and buried it in them, trying to control my sobs. The battle wasn’t over, it was just on pause. I had to pull myself together. I couldn’t, though, and I continued to shake with sobs. After some time, I could sense a presence nearing me. Tense, I looked up to see the nervous face of my father.

“Emily,” he started, but his voice cracked. Instead of speaking, he sat next to me. It was strange to share an intimate moment, even this one, with my father. He had been so absent in my life… But perhaps I had taken sides too quickly. He was my step-father, sure, but he lost two people when he divorced my mother, and now he had almost lost the last member of his family. I shuffled, and leaned my head to rest on his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked quietly. I never would have thought that my father would go out of his way to take action for anything. He didn’t fight to keep my mother in his life, either.

“I live in London, darling. How could I not be here?” he said. “Besides, I knew your brother would refuse to leave the castle. He’s the rebellious one, after all.”

I nodded, slightly uncomfortable at the angle. We sat in silence for some time.

“What do you think that Potter boy will do?” my father asked.

“He’ll live.”

“You sound so certain.”

“That’s because I am. I just know we’re all going to get through this. It’s going to be over soon,” I said the last part as more of a reminder to myself. There had been so much pain, and I just wanted it to end. I wanted us to win, already.

“Harry Potter is dead.”

My stomach dropped with the sudden announcement that filled the air. The voice rang out with the announcement, calling Potter a coward. I didn’t believe it in the slightest, though I knew there was no reason to lie about this. I looked at my father, whose expression matched my own horrified one.

When all of us rose and ran to the Entrance Hall, only when I saw the limp body lying there did I give in. I screamed, along with everybody else. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of Harry Potter’s body lying there. Something didn’t sit right, but I didn’t have the energy to analyze it. Was this supposed to serve as proof that the future could change? Or, and I hesitated to think such a dark thought, did I do this? Is it my fault that we lost the battle? I was hating myself for my selfish, love-fueled act from hours ago. Who was I to mess with fate? Who did I think I was?

And yet, I still fought in the ensuing battle with all my might, as if my contribution mattered. I really should have run away, like the cowardly, pathetic, emotion-fueled Hufflepuff that I truly was. But my father and I fought back to back, attacking death eaters together. I was trying to defend my father from a killing curse shot from a place I didn’t see, but I slipped.

I fell onto my side, wand-arm outstretched. My wand flew just out of my reach, but my eyes were trained on my father, who was hit by the curse. He collapsed. 

This time, I didn’t process it. Instead, I leapt to my feet and snatched my wand from the ground, turning to face the man who killed my father. I said the words before I could think, and he collapsed to the ground in the same way my father had, and I followed by dropping to my knees and hanging my head. I was exhausted. I couldn’t go on any longer. It took me a few more moments to process that a silence had fallen, and I had to twist my head around several times before I saw Harry Potter, standing bright and alive, facing Voldemort.

When Voldemort died, I hardly had the energy left to celebrate. My heart was weighed down by grief, and worsened by my rising body count. The death eater, my father, George Weasley, even my brother. I didn’t know exactly how, but I knew I was responsible for all of them.

I levitated my own father’s body into the Great Hall, placing him next to my brother. The House tables were in place, and I sat at what would have been considered the Gryffindor table, looking down at my family.

* * *

When I returned to my desk at the Ministry for the first time since it was reinstated, it was horrendous. It seemed to have been ransacked, and the documents I had carefully written up and documented for over a year were either all torn up or missing. I tried to avert my eyes as I disposed of Cotton, the Pygmy Puff. It took me two hours to restore my office to how it had been before, and afterwards I just sat at my chair, staring into space. It was June 1st, exactly a month after the Battle of Hogwarts they named it.

I had been in North Dakota the prior week, to see my mother. She was tense, but we all were. I told her only the bits she wanted to hear about the battle. She didn’t want to hear most of them. To my surprise, she seemed teary-eyed at the mentions of my father, but I didn’t question her about it. It seemed fair to be sad about the passing of someone you were once close to.

I told her about my visits to St. Mungo’s in the days after the battle. My brother was unresponsive, and was likely to remain so indefinitely. The nurses didn’t seem to have much hope; without knowing what spells he had been hit by, they couldn’t figure out why he was in this state, let alone how long he would be stuck like this. When I visited him, he was in a room shared by several other comatose patients, none of which were there in relation to the battle. He wasn’t hooked up to anything, and if I hadn’t known better than I would have assumed that he was sleeping. 

My mother nodded tearfully along as I told her all of this, then told me, “You were always so much closer to him than I. I think you should… you should be the one to make the, ah, d-decisions…” She stopped to blow her nose. She was trying to tell me that she wanted me to decide when to pull the plug, so to speak, if it became necessary. The two of us cried together for an hour that night, unable to speak any more.

When I had returned to London after that trip, my spirits were low. The world was making a return to normalcy, rebuilding. I returned to work, because that was the only thing I thought to do.

I checked in with my friends, who were all surprised to hear that I was present at the battle. Cassidy and May had elected to run a sort of safehouse for muggleborns and half-blood students that couldn’t hide safely in their own homes. Michael and Ruby had decided to lay low, and Anthony stayed with them. I was surprised to hear they weren’t there, but I didn’t blame them. I didn’t tell them about my brother or father, not yet. 

I stopped sleeping around the same time that I started to work again. I was stuck inside of these four walls, staring at people and seeing their deaths. When I’d go home, I’d lay in bed and stare at the walls or the ceiling, trying to block out the visions. Or, my mind would wander to the Weasley family, where I felt personally responsible for the death of George. Or, I would think about Fred. Did he sit in the shop, alone? Would he wander off into a back room when it got too crowded? Did he still put on a show for the customers, or did he struggle to grin and bear it, trying not to let the people around him see how much pain he was in?

I thought about going to the shop, sometimes. I wanted to see how he was doing, if there was anything I could do to ease the pain, or share it. But then, I would remember that it certainly wasn’t my place. He wouldn’t want to see me. So I stayed up thinking about him instead.

I didn’t want to sleep anyway. Images of death, destruction, kept me from sleeping restfully. I would wake up with a rapidly beating heart each time I drifted off to sleep.

The first Saturday after coming home from visiting my mother, I went into my office. I didn’t have to work, but the office space was mine and I didn’t want to sit awake in my flat in the daylight. Instead, I sat and stared at the door from behind my desk, thinking about how horrible I really was. I was so selfish. But it was undercut by uncertainty - was it all really my fault? I grew more and more unsure until I had to stand up from my desk and begin to pace. I had read books during my time at Hogwarts about Sight, back when I was trying to learn to control it. Something familiar danced just outside of my memory, and I sat back down at my desk. Was the school functional? Was the library blasted apart, or could those books still be there?

I took out a piece of parchment and a quill, and wrote a letter to Sybill Trelawney. After I sent it, I took out another piece of parchment and started scribbling down whatever I could remember reading from the library all of those years ago.

And then, I couldn’t stop writing. Like this diary, I allowed my notes to stretch much farther than I needed to; I was writing down things that there was no chance of myself forgetting. Really, I knew exactly how my Sight worked, so why was I detailing it on a spare roll of parchment?

It was all to procrastinate the inevitable, of course. I had to see Fred. Even if he didn’t want to see me I had to see him. He may not know it, but I was directly responsible for his brother’s death. To him, it would be an old, unwelcome friend. To me, the visit would mean a selfish way to quell my fears, to make sure he was doing alright. 

Fred was not doing alright.

I hovered outside of the shop window that afternoon, a steady drizzle outside, flitting around like a hummingbird near a bird feeder. He was preoccupied with a customer while I nervously paced, approaching the door and then backing away. Spinning around to stare at the shops around me, spinning around again and cupping my hands to see through the window. Eventually, the rain started coming down hard enough for me to realize I was being ridiculous. I stepped inside, and the bell above my head tinkled a greeting.

The shop was warm and bright and the smell of cinnamon wafted through the air. Fred didn’t look up from the old man in the bucket hat. I wandered over to the pygmy puffs again.

My eyes were stuck staring at the pygmy puffs, and I was lost in thought when Fred spoke. I hadn’t realized he had approached. 

“You sure seemed unsure of stopping in, didn’t you?” he asked. When I looked up at him the sight almost broke my heart. I could see his eyes crinkling, trying to keep his tone lighthearted. But his eyes didn’t have the sparkle that they used to have. The silence hung in the air as I tried to form a response - there was no one else there to fill it.

“Yeah, erm-” I stopped, looking down at my feet. I cleared my throat to look up at him again. “How are you, Fred?”

Uncharacteristically, Fred hesitated. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His eyebrows knit together, worry crossed his features in a second. In the next second, his face was a mask. “Well, the war’s over, innit?”  
I pressed my lips together and nodded, and just then the bell tinkled again and he was off serving another customer. I sighed, casting one last glance at the fluffy creatures in front of me before moving towards the door. Again, I hesitated. When I looked back over at Fred his eyes rose to meet mine and he waved a goodbye.

I was more than a little disappointed at the encounter, but it couldn’t be helped. What had I expected would happen? I was being selfish, again. I wanted to breeze into the stroll, browse the racks a bit, glancing at Fred as he was busy with work. I wanted to saunter up to him as he finished stocking a shelf, or as he was taking inventory, and I wanted to greet him in a soft voice. He would look at me and maybe his eyes would light up, just a tiny bit. I wanted to mean just a little bit more to him than I did. I wanted him to know that I still cared. But did I have any right to?

There was a lot to think about after that day. Before the war, just a year ago, I would be in their shop so frequently you’d think I worked there. I knew some of the regulars. Fred and George would chat to me, and we would all laugh together. Sometimes Fred would take me into the back storage room - a cramped space, filled with boxes and lit by candles - to show me their latest inventions. They were brilliant, when they worked. I had never had a regular relationship with those two; it was always in the shop, never in private. But still, we had shared stories and laughs. I missed them. It hurt my heart, then, to realize that I missed both of them. Not just Fred, because I might have had feelings for him, and not just George, because, well, you know. I missed them as a pair, too. I missed our weird, inconsistent friendship.

All of these feelings made me want to scream into a pillow. I wanted to see Fred again, but I couldn’t just show up after that cold encounter. It felt wrong, to force myself back into his life.

At work the next day, I grew more and more frustrated with myself. Why couldn’t I just decide on how I would approach Fred? If I could decide on doing it in the first place, I would be happy.

The answer came to me in a tragic, twisted way. I visited my brother at St. Mungo’s. He laid still on the hospital bed, so peaceful that he might as well have been sleeping. From the outside, you could never tell that he was hurting. The Healers had patched up his bruises, mended his bones, kept him nourished however they could. He looked alive, but he had remained unresponsive.

I told my brother everything about my visit to the joke shop the day before. He would have been sad about George too, but he also would have complained about how I didn’t get him anything from the shop. There was a perfectly good excuse to stop by then, wasn’t it?

A few days later, I visited the joke shop again. I went just before closing, having had a lot of work to do for once, and only barely made it in time to check out with a fistful of snacks.

Fred was tallying up my total in silence, breaking it only to tell me how much I owed. He began to wrap it, but I interrupted. “That won’t be necessary, thanks.”

He looked up in surprise. “Are they for you, then?”

Surprised by his interest, I stuttered out a response too quickly. “No - they’re still for my brother.” There was a pause. Fred’s hands still hovered over the wrapping. “He, ah, can’t really open them himself anymore.”

Fred nodded once, placing the items in a small bag. I noticed his hands shook, but only slightly. “I hope he enjoys them.”

“Me too.”

The treats did nothing, however. I had hoped that they might spark something in him, that the familiar crunching of the wrapper or scent of the pastries might reach something in his mind that was unreachable with magic. But, there was nothing.

So I returned to work for the week, along with the rest of the Ministry, apparently. There was much work to be done, since the Aurors were going on frequent missions to find any remaining Death Eaters. This much I gathered, from my visions.

Arthur Weasley’s face in my doorway was unexpected among the steady stream of aurors, enough for me to ask him why he was there.

“Well, for you to read my future, I suppose,” he said. I noticed that the worry lines in his face had deepened - everyone’s had - and his eyes liked to swing around my office. He was nervous about something, too. His hands had the slightest tremor as he wiped his brow with a kerchief. The same tremor I had noticed last week in Fred.

“Is everything all right, Mr. Weasley?” I couldn’t feel comfortable using his first name, not knowing what I did. I skimmed my papers. “I don’t have you in until the end of the month.”

“Quite right - well, I asked to have my session moved up. Not that it makes much difference to me, of course, but I actually wanted to speak with you,” he said, fumbling over his words. I could tell something strange was happening, and I felt wary.

“What is it?”

His eyes jumped up to meet mine, finally, before bouncing around the room again. “You see, Fred’s mentioned your name over dinner the other night. He doesn’t say much anymore, never mentions his friends, you know. It might be nothing, but I thought if maybe you knew him…”

As Mr. Weasley’s voice trailed off, I realized that my eyes had wandered down to stare at an empty spot on my desk. Fred had mentioned me? It sounded like his father found this pretty significant. “Actually, I was planning on stopping by the shop this afternoon.”

Mr. Weasley’s face immediately looked relieved. “Ah, wonderful. Thank you.”

I smiled at him, lips pressed together tensely. “No, thank  _ you _ .”


End file.
